


Shadows Fall

by MissWritesAlot



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Armitage Hux Has Issues, BDSM, Dominant Kylo Ren, Dubious Morality, Emperor Kylo Ren, F/M, First Order Fam, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force-Sensitive Reader, Forced Marriage, Forced Orgasm, Forced Relationship, Gratuitous Smut, Hux is Not Nice, Hux is a sassy lassy, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Jealous Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo spoils reader to an embarassing degree, Leia is still one with which one does not fuck, Non Redemption, POV Second Person, Possessive Kylo Ren, Present Tense, Protective Kylo Ren, Reader-Insert, The Dark Side of the Force, The Rebel Alliance is no more, This is why Han drinks, This story will probably make you kinda wanna root for the bad guys, Though you do get a new point of view so it's not that bad maybe?, but all the pretty things cant HURT your chances more than your god awful temper you twat, kinky fuckery for days, nondescript but female reader, silly kylo you cant buy love, stuff i will tag later cause i'm lazy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2019-07-07 12:26:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15908247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWritesAlot/pseuds/MissWritesAlot
Summary: You have dreamed the same dream countless times since you were five years old. It was always a boy in a meadow."Why are you here?"You didn't know - but surprise and distrust turned to eventual, shy friendship. Your dreams intertwined for years. You talked, you played, you laughed. As you grew older, there was a blooming feeling there but before either of you could even name what it was it was snuffed out by his absence.It has been years since you've seen him, heard his voice. You carry on the best you can without the only friend you've ever had and convince yourself it was nothing more than a dream.But was it?





	1. Prologue: Fire in His Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a Kylo centric thing. The plot is evolving but I know mostly what I want to do with it - I daresay it's even somewhat maybe sorta original! So buckle up kiddos, and prepare for a lot of angst, mystery, and exploration of shades of grey and right and wrong.

You are having the dream again.

It is strange thing after so many years to feel him, to feel that pull into what you had once considered your sanctuary. Your heart triples it’s pace as you settle into your new surroundings. That nostalgic anticipation sings through your veins as your presence pierces the veil between the dim mists of your troubled sleep and the familiar warmth of the world you once frequently shared with him. 

A grassy knoll expands before you, the blue sky seemingly endless. Everything is muted in the soft colors of spring. Twilight chases the horizon and allows a cool calm to steal over the soundless landscape. 

A swath of black marrs the dewy grass several paces ahead of you. 

You slow in your approach and you feel your brows furrow in reaction to the pang of _wrong_ that brushes against your mind. The energy crackling from him was nearly visible; you had never been able to sense his emotions and thoughts the way he could yours, but he seems changed. He is much taller and broader than the last time you saw him; he had always been big for his age, but even seated, the size difference between you is staggering. 

_He will positively tower over me standing,_ you think idly, your mind somewhat foggy and disconnected. You lack your sharp practicality and focus here. 

But it is more than the towering height that unnerves you, though you cannot put a name to the unease squirming like eels in your belly. As if to ease your confusion, your mind immediately sets about noticing the other changes, no matter how miniscule. 

His robes are of the finest quality, dark as pitch, and snug around the contours of his massive frame. He had been on the more scrawny side when he was young - so had you. The form before you was still lean in the hips and waist, but even from this distance you could see the span of his chest and shoulders had nearly tripled. 

Your old friend had his back to you, allowing you to take him in at your leisure. It has been so long since you seen him - nearly fifteen years - why did he go away? 

A pulse of hurt echoes through you even as you attempt to firmly remind yourself that this isn’t real, and that it never was. What this place was - what _he_ was - amounted to nothing more than a wistful dream of a silly and painfully lonely girl who had long ago grown up. 

The approach of your bare feet is muffled by the lush grass. The sun warmed earth feels amazing under your toes, but a wisp across your ankles startles you. Your chin jerks down and you stutter a step back, accidentally crushing a delicate wildflower with your heel. It is not the first time your clothing changed upon arrival, but it is the first time that it changed so drastically. Before, your wardrobe modifications were always that of a simple dress in a lovely bright shade, free of the wear and dirt your clothing in the waking world bore. 

But now? 

The material is gauzy and barely there, contradicting the purity the white sheen of the fabric suggested. It is nearly wicked with how thin it is spun, with the sinfully soft fabric caressing your body’s shape as a lover might. Twin golden clasps artfully knot the garment at your shoulders and are in truth the only thing keeps the dress from dipping even lower than it’s already daring plunge. The waist is hemmed in and encircled with a golden belt, painstakingly molded to resemble fiery autumn leaves. The hemline dips low, the fine fabric kissing across your legs in artfully separated pieces of varying lengths. A glance down confirms the presence of a pearly, efervescent stone dangling from a dainty chain. More gold hung from your years, a set to match your necklace. The presence of an armband, cut similarly to your belt, pulls the look together. 

But why was there a “look” at all? 

You are not a vain creature and did not dare to ever possess any fantasies of even being in the proximity of such beautiful things, let alone owning them. In the depths of your belly, your instinct rumbles it’s assertion that he must have made the change. You’d always suspected he was the one making the minute changes. The fact that you can feel your cumbersome hair loose against your back only adds weight to this suspicion. 

_He’d always liked your hair loose._

Time seems to crawl to a standstill; your approach hung delicately on the cusp of never. But just as every time before, you eventually take your place beside him. There is a faint, flickering worry of ruining your dress - but you dismiss it. Not only is it a silly worry to begin with in the overall scheme of things, but this isn’t real. 

“Isn’t it?” His voice is much deeper, much darker than you remembered. It’s timbre rolls down your spine and leaves tingles sinister, delicious tingles in its wake. 

The change startles you into looking at him directly; you hold back a scream. 

Eyes of ochre fire bore into yours and they threaten to consume you with a glance. You feel a pull from deep within your mind - there is a desperation to it that makes your head pound. The shock of the intrusion is enough to keep your muscles locked into place. You bite your tongue hard, drawing blood in effort to stop a scream born of sheer will from clawing its way up your throat. The very landscape changes in response to the strain building between you; the wind whips into a frenzy and the sky darkens with billowing black clouds. 

Rain threatens as lightning splits the sky; a forlorn cry of some animal howling as thunder booms. You feel the bottom of your stomach drop, and you idly wonder if it’s possible to lose consciousness when you’re already unconscious... 

His pull is strong; too strong. How is he so much stronger? You feel as if he will pull your brain through your nose any moment if he does not let up. 

He had tried to enter your mind before, in these hazy and mostly pleasant interludes. But he never could, and it was something that seemed to eat at him more and more as the years went on until one day...you stopped dreaming of him entirely. 

But now? He must be able to sense your panicked surface thoughts only, otherwise he wouldn’t be ramming his presence into your brain. It felt like he would enter your mind and dig up your secrets even if it meant extinguishing your life in the process, even if it meant breaking his promise to never hurt you like the others did - 

**_“NO!”_**

His hoarse roar is somehow louder than the storm. 

He is the storm, the thought rises unbidden from your subconscious, and you feel another clench of warning from deep in your lower belly. 

It would be best for you to leave, best for you to not dream again. 

The force with which he throws himself from you is nearly twice as strong as the effort he put into trying to break through your mental barriers. His panting and your heartbeat are the only sounds - save for the coming squall. 

“I don’t want to hurt you. I would _never_ hurt you. I just need - “ He cut himself short, the tension suddenly spurring through him revealing that he nearly said too much. 

You had missed him - missed the way you would simply lie for hours and watch the clouds roll by. Occasionally his hand would brush yours and a blush would steal across his cheeks. Years had passed, nearly fifteen, since you had seen his face. The man looking at you now, with eyes of fire and barely contained, unnamed emotion was no longer that quiet boy with the gentle touch. Even slouched as he is, he is over a foot taller than you and twice as wide. His face is still handsome, but it had lost all of it’s solemn softness. He was now all hard planes and sharp angles. 

Power radiates off of him in nauseating waves. 

“Why are you here? Why am _I_? After all this time?” You feel weak for the hurt that filters through your whispered query. You feel even more foolish when, again, you realize you were hurt over a figment of your imagination standing you up. Were you really that desperate for company? 

“I am just as a real as you are, lamb.” The old nickname rolls off his tongue in familiar waves, but it sounds wrong. 

It sounds like a promise. 

“My attention was called away on other matters; I wanted to see if you still lived.” He pauses, adjusting himself to his full height. “And I want to know where you are so I can finally come collect you.” 

You suddenly forget how to breathe. “Collect me?” 

“Yes.” It is a singular word, but delivered in that dark, confident tone? It said so much. Where had that shy, awkward boy gone? 

You ignore the request for your location; not only because suspicion still lances through your core, but because shame stills your tongue.That same bitter, white-hot shame courses through you every time you wake from beautiful dreams to the slums you were born of. “What happened to your eyes?” 

“I found my calling. Do my eyes frighten you?” 

You feel your chin lift of its own accord. “No.” 

It is a lie, and both of you know it. 

He smiles, regardless. It is a slow smile, one you feel deep down in your toes. It is a different smile from his unsure grins of the past. 

“Good. You are the only person in the galaxy that need not fear me.” His voice is soft but the velvet is lined with steel. “Now, tell me where you are, lamb. It is time.” 

“I can’t.” You wince when his eyes practically glow with ire. 

“Tell me where you are. Why can’t I sense your location, hm? Who is protecting you - _keeping you from me?_ ” His words are even softer now, and twice as dangerous. You instinctively take a step back, preparing to bolt. 

_“No! Do not run from me!”_

You can feel his power tugging at your body, attempting to keep you in place. Somehow, again, you are able to resist his pull. You run headlong toward the swirling grey mist, a sob escaping your lips as cold fear slithers through your insides. 

You know you shouldn’t look, but you do. 

He is magnificent in his wrath; the ground itself trembles as a result of the rage painted plainly on his hauntingly beautiful face. The sky is spitting lightning, and the angry clouds threatening a downpour before make good on their promise. Torrents of rain pelt your exposed flesh pitilessly, making your vision blur. Your hover at the very edge of the portal in your mind that will hopefully take you away from this place, away from him. 

A mindless, brief window of indecision suspends you. _If you left him now, you would truly be alone._

One dainty foot is pauses in mid air, ready to cross the threshold and never return. 

You are only dimly aware of your dress molding to your body due to the rain, but the way his ember-like eyes dip and rake over you made you entirely too aware that the material was now see-through. 

The desire that heats his molten gaze is the final tipping point that makes you rush into your escape route. 

Your ears ring with his final bellow. 

_“I will find you! I will **always** find you!”_


	2. I. Gutter Rat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake and plan to return to the drudgery that is your life, never to dream of him again.
> 
> Kylo has other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be updating this story as much as humanly possible, while keeping up with my NeganxReader fic! 
> 
> Excuse any tense issues as I'm trying out second person first tense, and it is quite challenging. If you notice any really severe errors please do let me know! 
> 
> Reviews give me life.

You become aware of the waking world around you gradually.

The poor excuse for a mattress beneath you is lumpy and warmed only by your small body. As soon as you leave the mound of patched and paper thin blankets you know you will be miserable and cold. You can tell even without opening your eyes that dawn has not come - the three suns that give Korian it’s light are still nestled snugly beneath the horizon. The pre-dawn air is frigid, seeping into the many cracks and holes of your hastily constructed hut. 

Your home planet is a place of extremes. For as long as the moon is in the sky, the winds are merciless cold bursts that promise pain and you can see your breath fog the air before you. When the three suns are high in the sky you are at constant risk of heat exhaustion and almost foolish enough to look forward to the bitter cold nipping at the heels of dusk. 

Despite living in a sprawling, unending city/trash heap that spans for nearly sixty kilometers, only the cry of the occasional vulture disrupts the stillness of the morning. You find an odd sense of solace in these short, quiet moments. Your body tingles all along your nerve endings, and if you didn’t know any better you might swear that _he_ was still trying to pull you to him. 

Oh, kriff it. 

_Ben._ That was the name he’d hesitated to give that first day in your meadow. But he’d practically beamed at you when you’d given yours. He hadn’t called you by it though - you can’t quite remember how it started or if he ever even told you how he thought of it but you’d been dubbed _lamb_ early on. It caused an ache to bloom in your chest whenever you thought of him after he had vanished without explanation. So you did your best to forget. 

One day around this time in the cycle, nearly fifteen years ago, he hadn’t been in the meadow. 

You waited for him, until the meadow stopped appearing entirely - flickering out of existence like a sputtering flame on a candle. You’d nearly convinced yourself fully that it had all been in your overactive imagination. You wanted it to be, because a figment of your imagination couldn’t abandon you like everyone else had. 

_But did murder really count as abandonment?_

Your parents had been loving but naive. They’d made a deal with the wrong man, and when they couldn’t pay... 

The memory is still too painful, and you simply can’t deal with that on top of everything else. You shove it away, burying it deep once more. A long, leisure stretch works most of the cold kinks out, and you reluctantly find your feet. Since your parents had died you survive mostly on luck and hard work. Few of the orphans you knew had survived their first year on their own. 

You have a knack for finding things but you know scavenging was out of the cards. Everything worth the hunt was picked clean long before you were born. So you turned one of your quirks into a viable source of income. Cleanliness had always been important to you; not only did being clean and having a clean environment make you feel better and focus better, but staying clean was crucial for survival. Filth festered infection and a simple case of the sniffles could turn into something much more serious due to the lack of medicine and those trained in it. Just five years ago, nearly half the planet died from a horrible fever epidemic. 

Being a laundress was back-breaking and thankless but it kept food in your belly and meager bits of medicine in your stores. 

Clean sheets are just as important as clean bandages on a fresh wound. This is something you’d tried to instill in the orphan children that live near you, but they are a wild and reckless bunch. Maybe today will be the day you finally garner the energy to wrangle them into that bath you keep threatening them with... 

Your morning promises to be much the same as every other morning despite the odd events of the night before. The workload is nearly enough to keep your mind off of your dream encounter but not quite. The overloaded wicker basket bites into your hip as you dart between precariously leaning towers of metal. Most of these iron giants were constructed out of ships piled on top of each other to create a sort of apartment complex. A work of brilliant engineering really; the local boss is a cruel and deviant man but he does possess a clever mind. In the end really, that perhaps only makes him more dangerous. 

Lordu’k is the gamerunner on Korian; he oversees all the local thugs, runs all the rackets, and collects exorbitant amounts of credits in exchange for protecting the more vulnerable denizens from the occasional pirates or shipwrecked barbarians. The smooth operating Twi’lek had promised your safety several times over if only you’d agree to his little _proposal._ Not marriage of course, but rather warming his bed regularly. 

Apparently he has a taste for spirited virgins - or rather, that was what you gathered when you told him exactly where he could place his offer of protection. 

Frankly, you’d rather be murdered by marauding space pirates. And that isn’t just because he was over twice your age, missing teeth, and a horrible being in general. But because you have a strong suspicion that despite his claims and some light proof to the contrary, that _he_ was the one who murdered your parents...

You scrub the sheets in the bin before you harder, using all your will to snap yourself back to the present. Whatever this muck is, and frankly you don’t want to know, it is _not_ coming out. 

It takes a moment to stand and lean away from your metal wash bin, cracking your back as you do so. It is nearly dusk. The sheets and garments still wet will have to be hung to dry on the makeshift line you’d strung up. The water still has to be dumped and the bin will have to be rinsed, and then you _still_ had to deliver the clean, sun dried laundry back to whom it belonged. If you were lucky you would make it back into the relative safety and shelter of your hut by the time the suns were slipping back beneath the horizon. 

The markets are thick with business even at this late hour, so you take the winding, equally filthy back alleys. You dodge bodily waste, dead animals, and the occasional adamant beggar. Shame and pity scalds you deeply when you run upon the most unfortunate on the planet; those who could not work, or were otherwise unhirable because of some deformity. You spare what you can, when you can, but you still cannot meet their eyes. 

You had begged once too, in this very back alley. 

The pressure of completing your work on time nearly makes you completely miss it. Your thoughts are so centered on how to get to Goram’s side of the apartment that you almost notice the sharp needlepricks on the backs of your arms too late. You are being watched, and _closely_ at that. 

Your entire body felt like it was vibrating suddenly, humming wildly with a balrey restrained pure energy. Every sense was dialed up to eleven. Your breath heaved, your heart hammered. You didn’t have a mirror but you knew your pupils were dilated from the sudden kick of adrenaline and whatever this... _awareness_ was. 

And then, just before you pivot to run from this phantom feeling, you hear it. 

_Found you, Lamb. Stay where you are._

It can’t be! Your heart gives a panicked thud, sending an alarming amount of blood rushing through you. His voice isn’t coming from the alley, it is...inside your head.... 

_After everything else you’ve seen me do, are you really so surprised? I’ve explained the marvels of the Force to you many times over. Did you not believe me?_

Is it just you, or does he sound slightly miffed at the idea of your potential disbelief? 

“I...I believed you but it’s different to experience it first hand. Outside of a dream.” 

_You don’t actually have to speak out loud in order for me to hear you._

Kriff! Does that mean he is close enough to audibly hear you?! 

_I knew you were a clever girl, lamb,_ he said smoothly in response to a thought you hadn’t directed toward him. _Let’s play a little game - if you win, you will only get five. If I win, you will get ten and I will get a kiss. Doesn’t that sound fair?_

_Ten or five what?_

_You’ll see. But I do have to find some way to drive the point home that you are not to run from me again. Do we have a deal?_

You didn’t like the way that sounded, but curiosity got the better of you. _Alright...what is the game?_

Why do you feel a perverse thrill at the idea that not only is not-Ben real, but you are about to play a game - almost like old times? It is so surreal that for a moment you almost forget your reluctance and wariness. But then you recall those fiery eyes and you have to swallow a lump of indecision. 

_If you make it to the end of the alley without me catching you, you win. If I catch you before you make it, I win._

_And what if I just keep running?_

A dark chuckle rumbles across your mind like a caress. 

_You can never run far enough to get away from me, little lamb._

You don’t bother with a reply, instead breaking into a sprint, tossing the basket to the side. The splash of it landing into a puddle of dingy grey water you didn’t want to examine too closely nearly makes you cry out with distress. 

But there is more than a days wasted work on the line - your _freedom_ is on the line. 

That dark promise of some unnamed thing is still lingering between the two of you. It slipped into the waking world as seamlessly as he did and you felt you might not be able to breathe for how much this **connection** is suddenly weighing on your chest. 

_That’s how I felt at first too, but it will pass. Just breathe through it._

Why did his words soothe you and instill a tiny sliver of reclaimed calm? 

You shake your head fiercely, railing against the effect he has on you. 

Blood sings through you as you move as fast as your weary, underfed body can carry you. The roar of an airship overhead nearly makes you scream. The engine quiets to a lazy purr as it hovers in the empty air directly in front and far above you. You can feel the heat from the recently engaged lightspeed on your face - or maybe it is _his_ heat. Maker knew you feel scalded by his presence. 

Your head throbs, buzzing like a hornets nest has been unleashed inside. You cry out, unable to see the path in front of you through the tears pooling in your eyes. A quick raise of your forearm dashes them away. The telling hiss of a loading bay being opened makes your head jerk up and you see a dark figure poised on the edge, an army of silver troopers standing stoicly behind him. 

The swath of black drops effortlessly to the ground in front of you with a dramatic flutter of a long cloak. His heavy boots don’t make a sound. Only the splash of dingy muck confirms he is a physical presence instead of some dark imagining. 

You know he is smiling a smug victory smile, even with the sinister chrome plated mask concealing his face. Considering how those eyes of his had made you feel before, you are almost thankful for the mask’s chilling presence. 

You skid to a halt, nearly face-planting when your bare feet slipped in the squishy mud and garbage composing the alley floor. He regards you silently for several moments, seeming entirely unconcerned when several people poke their heads from their windows. 

His eyes are not visible but you can nearly _feel_ them roaming over you; your face, your hair, your tattered and stained dress, your sweat and dirt covered skin. The heat of his gaze lingers on your curves, snagging on the sharp dip of your too narrow waist and the fragile, apparent bones of your wrists and clavicle. 

You are alarmed when a spike of fury emanates from him, on the tail of a murkier but no less potent emotion. 

This time, he speaks out loud. 

A gloved, long fingered hand extends. “Come with me. You will be safe and cared for. We have much to discuss.” 

“What about the game?” You hate how petulant you sound. 

His mask dips, and you have the sense he is taking in your thin, frail frame once more. “Things have changed. Come. I will not ask again.” 

“I don’t want to go with you -” 

The hand that was extended towards you in offering is withdrawn, and then put forward again more sharply palm up and toward you as if he was pushing something. 

A wave of dizziness nearly overtakes you, black spots dancing across your line of vision as you sway on your feet. You are barely able to steel your mind against this assault. For a harrowing moment you aren’t sure you are able to. Instinct kicks in just in the nick of time, just as it did in the meadow when he had gently probed at your mind. 

This time, just as your last encounter with this man who was Ben-but-not-Ben, there was nothing gentle about the way he attempted to work his will over you. 

This expectation of control rankles, and it hurts. He had been your dearest friend at one time, hadn’t he? But he isn’t that boy any longer. No, now he is something else entirely. You can _feel_ it. And something deep inside you knows that if you go with him you will never be the same. For all your wanting of a better life, you despise change. The man before you is change incarnate, and you want no part of that unpredictable volatility you sense seething inside him like magma bids its time within a volcano. 

You almost hear the smirk in his voice, along with perhaps a touch of pride. _Why would he be proud that you have resisted him?_

“Impressive, lamb. I could press harder, of course, but I’m not entirely sure what that would do to you. It’s a shame that others don’t have your resilience... and you possess a tender heart.” 

A young man lets out a yell as he is pulled from the high window of his apartment and suspended by the throat by some unseen force. 

From the way the handsome blonde’s hands are clasping at his neck you could only assume he is struggling for air. Your suspicions are confirmed when that modulated voice speaks again, colder this time. 

“Come with me now, and this boy will live. Refuse me again, or run, and I will kill every single gutter rat standing between you and me.” 

You could feel the truth in his words. 

The blonde looked at you pleadingly, and you could see a vessel had burst in his right eye. 

“Stop, please! I will go with you. Don’t hurt him!” 

The man was unceremoniously dropped to the ground. “See? Was that really so hard, lamb?” 

There was a moment of unease, a trickle of awareness - and then he struck. 

You weren’t able to gather your guard up this time. 

The last thing you see is the trio of suns slipping beneath the horizon before strong arms pull you to a broad chest...


	3. II. So Shall it Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake, don't take kidnapping well, and meet a certain sassy ginger who puts things to you plainly.

For as pissed as you are as consciousness gradually returns, you have to admit that this was the best sleep you’ve had in years. Your eyes are stubborn about opening for several moments, as heavy as they are with his lingering influence.

You know he’s there even before you automatically turn your head in his direction. 

Seated on a nearby chair, his dark eyes casually catch yours as if his unflinching stare is utterly natural. 

_He is looking at you like a drowning man might look at a life preserver._

You can see he is doing his best to shield a mess of bickering emotions and impulses. His brows are unconsciously drawn and his jaw muscle ticks. The things he tries to hide echo across the shadowed planes of his face and reflect in the eerie golden burning of his eyes. But there is still an open wound of _feeling_ there, and it unsettles you. 

You remain still and silent, returning his gaze before it's heat forces you to finally break eye contact. 

His voice without the modulator is somehow even darker and deeper; a sinister silk. “I told you already - you don’t need to fear me.” 

“Oh, trust me, I don't.” Another lie. When did you become such a kriffing liar? 

“Trust? That is what you need, not fear.” He sounds incredulous, as if the concept is foreign to him. “I will admit that I have little experience with this, but you will come to trust me in time. Just as you will earn my trust. This is the way of things now, lamb.” 

“Must be nice to be able to bring things into being simply by willing it.” Your knack for sharp sarcasm is bleeding through despite your determination to remain calm. You are feeling refreshed and better than you had in weeks from what was likely only a few hours of rest, but you were piqued. Being kidnapped piqued you, and you wouldn’t get un-piqued anytime soon. Who in the kriff did he think he was? 

A deep chuckle rumbles across the space between you, and that space is suddenly much less as he leans his large frame forward. 

“In time you _will_ trust me, lamb. You will have time to adjust, but after you have had adequate time to accept your new station I expect compliance. You will come to see that I am right in this, and that I have what is best for you in mind. It is not my intention to make you feel caged, but it is necessary for your protection and happiness.” 

You scoff audibly, your righteous anger giving you the courage/stupidity to glare at him. “I don’t need your protection or your thoughts on my happiness!” 

“Oh, but you do, little lamb. You are in far more danger than you know simply for being who you are. I will explain in time. You need to rest for now.” He stands slowly then, as if reluctant to leave you. 

A question comes, instead of another anger-fuelled outburst. “What _happened_ to you?” Ah, and there it was - a little burst of unwelcome clarity on the tail end of that desperate query. 

What did it say about you that you were still more upset that he disappeared than that he kidnapped you? Disgust with yourself wriggles sharply in your gut. All the fight evaporates from you, and the adrenaline pumping through your blood turns sluggish and cold. 

“I grew up. I became who I was meant to be.” His gaze zeroed in on your face, a slow smile upturning the corner of his mouth. “And so did you. I will explain more after we -”

The hiss of the doors leading into the small quarters you occupied makes him pause, and the sheer _rage_ that ripples over his features is enough to make you scoot a bit further into the bed. 

If he notices he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he turns his head to the dapper ginger man. “I hope you have a spectacular reason for interrupting, Admiral.” 

“Yes, my Liege.You were quite clear about what you would do with my entrails if I intruded needlessly. I believe having them couriered to my mother or having me eat them were the two options you were weighing last we spoke.” 

_Liege?_

Also, how was this immaculate man so damn _calm?_ He looked almost bored as he casually described the ways his superior had threatened him with death. 

“I’m leaning more toward garroting you with them at this particular moment. You had something to report?” 

“Your mother wishes a word. She’s quite insistent.” 

For a heart-stopping moment you think he will simply _gut_ the ginger on the spot. It is alarming and baffling, the almost impatient way the Admiral regards your captor. They maintain eye contact with each other for several prolonged seconds; a silent exchange. 

“I will return.” He finally speaks, to you this time. To the Admiral he gives a terse, “Keep her entertained,” before disappearing with another dramatic flutter of his cape and whoosh of the durasteel doors. 

A tense moment of silence follows as the Admiral, back straight as a lance with his hands clasped behind him, studies you. “So, you’re what’s been causing all the fuss.” 

“Fuss?” You repeat dumbly. 

“Oh yes, quite a bit of fuss. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I wouldn’t have this position if Ren hadn’t quite literally decapitated the last Admiral in a fit of rage for his inability to locate you. Luckily for me, I’m not nearly so incompetent.” 

Well, that explains how he’s so young and still an admiral... 

Not that you knew overly much about the pecking order of ships. 

“Oh, I see.” You really have no idea what to say to that, but the knowledge that you had this man to thank for your abrupt and unwilling departure from Korian makes you instantly take a dislike to him. 

“I can see that you really don’t, darling, so don’t try to convince me that you do. Like Ren said though, it will all come naturally in time.” 

“How do you know he said that?” 

“I was eavesdropping, of course.” 

“Of course,” you reply, begrudgingly amused, as you imagine this taciturn man with his ear pressed to the door. 

As if bestowing you a great and priceless gift, the Admiral sighs and takes the empty seat before you, giving you a look that is nearly....pitying. 

“I imagine you have many questions. Proceed. I have a feeling that’s the true reason he placed me here anyway. It’s not as if you can make a daring escape out of the airlock.” 

You give him your name. "May I ask your name?” 

The man inclines his head, a regal acknowledgement. “I am Admiral Armitage Hux, though you may simply address me as Hux. Do not fall into the same mire as those who refer to me as _Huck._ You do not want to be there.” 

You nod, feeling as if you are a gaping fish at this point. 

“Earlier you referred to Ben as Liege -” 

_”Do not refer to the Emperor by that name.”_ He took some of the harshness from his quick and razor sharp reprimand by clucking at you reproachfully. “Darling, you _are_ going to take a lot of work. I hope Minerva is prepared for all of this.” At ‘this,’ he makes a gesture at your general person. 

You barely register what he says after _Emperor,_ so the catty remark is lost on you. 

Part of your escape plan - because of course you had one - _had_ been to find a sympathetic soldier who would take you to the proper authorities to be sent home and have this madman and those helping him answer for the crime of kidnapping. 

Who would possibly help you escape the most powerful man in the Galaxy? 

You don’t hear a lot of news on Korian. It’s isolated and worthless, on the far reaches of the outer rim. It used to be a penal planet where the undesirables and criminals were dumped to be forgotten. Over the centuries the more lethal natural beasts were dealt with and it became something of a popular hideout for those on the run; few bounty hunters had the guts or the grit to shadow the doorway of a cantina there. 

But even a remote, resourceless city with minimal traffic was not able to avoid news of the Empire’s take over. It meant little to Korian as it was again, a worthless independent planet with nothing to offer but a healthy supply of criminals and stranded unfortunates. The Republic was no more, they said. The governing body of the known galaxy had been liquified and reformed under a single, united banner. The death toll had surprisingly been minimal once the Rebellion finally negotiated a surrender - a surrender that had been _honored._

These had been distant and likely embellished tales of trials undergone people far more important than you. 

Now, you are right smack in the middle of it. 

In the background Hux is chattering about how at least your figure and face are promising under all that dirt and fatigue. 

“What do my looks have to do with anything?” You snap, feeling akin to a cornered animal. Hux just touched a nerve, needless to say. 

Fine red brows rise into his hairline. His stern, sharp features belie his amused tone. “You know, most people wouldn’t dare take that tone with me, or the Emperor for that matter. But you’re not most people - and that is likely the only advantage you have at the moment. This is certainly not the place for a wilting flower.” He tilted his head at you, steely eyes flickering over you for the hundredth time. It is not the gaze of a lecherous man, but rather one of a tactician. You get the sense he is looking for weaknesses in you as he might an enemy ship, and finding more than he counted on. “To answer your question, dear girl, image is everything.” He gestures at his own immaculate black uniform as if to prove a point. “People believe what they see. Somehow we must convince the Galaxy that a little backwater ragamuffin is their Empress.” 

_**”Their what?!!?”**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have plans for Hux that I believe are very unconventional and unique - and I am cackling as I imagine your reactions to this. Also, who is Minerva? Well, you will have to wait and see, my pretties! One nugget I will bestow upon you though, is that Millicent the cat will make an appearance (several likely) in this series! Also, again, the second person present tense style is experimental and new to me - let me know your thoughts on it!


	4. III. Fate and other Fickle Creatures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay kiddos, remember that the more comments and insight I get the faster I am likely to write. Your wonderful reviews and encouragement are literally giving me life right now! In thanks, I have worked up an extra long chapter for you lovelies! It was all done in one day so please excuse any typos, etc. If anyone would like to officially volunteer their time to Beta each chapter before release I would be eternally grateful! Please note that I will be editing the previous chapters to reflect some recent creative decisions I've made - the biggest one being that "You" will remain an unnamed character. Others are just minor fixes that I am doing to things I spotted later on that bugged me. 
> 
> I aim to be updating at least once every two days. If times are busy, I will be sure to try and get out at least a little something for you in the way of an update to let you know. 
> 
> Also, I am in the process of compiling a playlist for this Fic because nothing gets me more fired up than a song! Honestly, there are already so many songs on this playlist that really get me, but I'm definitely open to suggestions for songs that you think fit - I love jamming while writing, so please do send in those jams, bbs! Also, be sure to keep an eye on the tags and the beginning notes for any potential trigger warnings and advance notice of the steamy times! This is turning into a bit more of a slower burn than initially intended but "You" are not having any of it rn, so sorry lovies. But hopefully within the next few chapters we can get to the good stuff. :)

The next several hours of your life consist of the lulling hum of the hyperdrive and a welcome solitude. A service droid drops off a higher quality meal than expected; tender meat with flavorful sauce and steamed greens. There is also a generous and delicious glob of what is known as pudding, according to the chatty droid. S4-24 also imparts the knowledge that the Emperor, praise his name, wishes for you to bathe and make yourself comfortable as he would be delayed for longer than expected.

The meal is devoured once the machine is out of sight, and you settle into satiated lethargy. This is the first time in memory you are actually _full,_ and keeping awake is a valiant struggle. You cannot afford to sleep quite yet. You have much to think about; the primary topic being of how in the kriff you were going to get yourself out of this one. You could barely manage to herd the local orphan children away from certain death, so how in the stars are they expecting you to one day be able to command the respect and obedience of an entire Galaxy? 

Hux had made it abundantly clear that this was entirely what was required of you, as _Kylo Ren’s Empress._

The absurdity of the situation still leaves you feeling as if you could snap awake back in your own lumpy bed in your own tiny hut at any moment. Surely this was all some dream - you had hit your head while going about your laundressing duties, perhaps... 

Despite your hopes to the contrary, the events befalling you continue to echo their authenticity. 

You soon tire of searching for solutions that will not be coaxed forward, and turn to examine the small, tidy quarters that are your cell. 

Chrome walls make the space feel sterile; there are minimal accents and no decoration. A small, comfortable cot extends from the wall in one corner, and the large durasteel door - biolocked to only open for Kylo or Hux, naturally - is on the opposite side. Another, smaller door leads to the ‘fresher. There are no windows. Your cloaked captor had stolen the straight-backed chair from some other place in the ship. 

You are a prisoner. 

Again, your eyes stray to the ‘fresher. 

You would dearly love the chance to bathe in an actual, honest to stars refresher unit. On Korian, you bathed frequently, but homemade or sketchy imported cleansing powder and sparse rain water could only do so much. The muck of the alley and it’s stench still clung to you. In the fresh, crisp circulation of the ship’s carefully ventilated air, it is unmistakable. You wrinkle your nose, a fresh wave of mortification singing through you. It is almost enough to make you do a straight beeline for the unit, but you don’t like the thought of being naked even for a brief time while trapped here. It smacked of excess vulnerability, and you were already quite vulnerable. 

Still, it would give you something to do, wouldn’t it? You’d likely feel much better, think better, if you were clean. 

_Stars, what if this ship had **hot** water?_

You nearly whimper with want at the idea. The things you might be willing to risk to enjoy an actual hot shower! The infrequent and icy rain had been practical and refreshing, but oh, the fantasy of steaming water had comforted you on those bitter cold nights when your tired body was sore and stiff from scrubbing and hanging sheets. 

Teeth find your lower lip and worry it as you ever so casually creep closer to the ‘fresher. Surely a measly five minute shower wouldn’t hurt? You just want to be _clean._

You reach the door to the ‘fresher and give up the charade of indecision. “Kriff it,” you whisper harshly to yourself as your hand finds the panel to open the door. The door panel slides silently to the left and reveals a small, equally spartan unit with a toilet, sink, and standing shower. The door shuts behind you and no time is wasted in stripping from your filthy, tattered dress. The idea of having to put it back on again is...ick, but you figured you could arrange for a change of clothes soon enough. 

A brief search of the singular wall cabinet provides a basic supply of a tooth brush, mouth paste, cleansing powder, a body cloth, and a thin towel. 

The shower stall is state of the art compared to what you’re used to, but to the average Galactic citizen it is a fairly basic model with two knobs and an overhead nozzle. 

A trembling hand reaches out to twist the knob with the red dot. Water gushes from overhead, already warm and quickly turning hot. You squeak in discomfort, quickly turning the other to prevent being scalded. And then that moment hits when you find the absolute perfect temperature and utter _bliss_ envelops you. You basically moan as you turn your face up to the spray. Steam rises and makes the air as well as your skin glisten; the balmy, perfect water sluices over you in a river of simple, staggering pleasure. 

You allow yourself only a few moments of just basking in this wondrous cocoon of warmth before you remember your initial mission. Your hair is quite long and thick. It weighs heavily on your neck, dull with collected dirt. Nimble fingers lather your scalp thoroughly and work their way down through the wet tangles. The steam and heat are quickly making you realize exactly how tired you still are, spurring you to rinse your hair and move on to your body. The cloth is rough, but still feels like heaven against your skin. 

After finally deeming yourself clean enough for now you allowed your body to lull once again under the spray, simply absorbing the heat. The muscles in your neck and back are loose. The tendons and strain in your legs and calves are soothed. The minor cuts and scrapes on you had been tended to while you slept, but the residual ache from the torn flesh had all but disappeared now. 

You are not facing the shower entrance - a mistake. 

A rush of cool, ventilated air almost as tantalizing as the heat before you ghosts over the vulnerable flesh of your back. You sense him before you see him, which is impressive considering the speed with which you whirl to face him. One arm covers your breasts while your other rears back, hurtling the cleanser container at him full force. 

The utter ease with which he brushes aside the attack takes your outrage up a notch. 

_”What in the kriff are you doing?!”_ You blink the water from your eyes and they immediately widen. The Emperor, rumored to be the most powerful man in the Galaxy, looks like he’s about to go to his Gods-damned knees. His chest is nigh heaving and you sense that he is barely restraining himself from entering the tiny, steamy stall. 

“Checking on you. You weren’t sleeping, as I instructed you to.” He says - not a whit of remorse - to your barely concealed breasts. His jaw is flexing rapidly, those fiery gold eyes narrowing on your arm as if his look alone could persuade it to reveal what it was obstructing. 

“Filth isn’t conducive to good sleep - get out.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I’m naked!” 

“That is definitely not a bad thing.” He closes his eyes, as if he is relishing what little he can see and imprinting it to memory. 

“No, but you being here while I am is!” 

His penetrating gaze resumes, and a dark brow quirks. “Why? I’ve already told you, I would never hurt you - especially not like _that._ But, if you’re willing, I am.” 

You let loose a disgusted noise in your frustration - and for a very small sliver of a moment you think you see actual _hurt_ flicker in his eyes. They are shuttered again before you can be certain. Surely it was just a trick of the light? Your ire softens the tiniest bit, but you maintain your glare. 

“I don’t reward mistreatment of me, _my Liege._ ” 

Also you were very much inexperienced, but that was certainly none of his business. 

At length, he lets loose a sigh. “You’re right. I haven’t...handled this at all how I wanted to. Forgive me, I will meet you in the other room. I brought you clean things to wear.” 

You blink at him, suspicion clear in your eyes, but he gently shuts the shower door. A moment later you hear the metallic hum of the ‘fresher door opening and shutting. By the time you finally leave the unit, the water ran icy. You took your time drying yourself and brushing your teeth, curiously eyeing the neatly folded garments on the counter. They were of the finest cotton. Thin but insulated against chill. Tactical; likely the same undershirt and leggings that most soldiers wore under their armor to prevent chafing. Soft, plain slippers are beside them as well as a sensible pair of grey socks. You nearly sigh with pleasure when you are dressed in clean clothes, and wearing shoes for the first time in, well, _ever._ They are comfortable and protect you from the bite of the cool metal floors. 

Still miffed, you hurry your way over the threshold. 

Kylo stands as you enter, hands behind his back in a formal posture. Still seething from everything, you blatantly ignore him. 

“You must be angry and confused. Hesitant about me and this new situation. I cannot simply demand your trust and expect it to be.” His tone was sincere, contemplative. The words, though, sounded like they were first said by someone else. 

His mother perhaps? Surely any mother would try to talk her son out of such madness. He was pushing you away more with every passing second, and he knew it. You could tell by the set of his jaw and the concentration on his features. He was playing to win, but the deck was stacked against him. 

The bed is too inviting to ignore. You lay back on it fully, propping yourself up against your many pillows to face him. You purposefully take your time to respond. 

“ _Whatever_ gave you that impression?” Your tone is chilly and clipped. You detect a thread of uncertainty in him as he moves to pull the chair toward the end of your bed again, while still keeping a respectable distance. 

Instead of responding to your sarcastic barb, he pulls something out of a concealed pocket in his armor. Your eyes lock on it and widen. Suddenly, you are very, very awake. 

“Where did you get that?” 

“Where do you think?” 

“That’s impossible.” 

“Nothing is impossible with the Force, lamb.” He twirls the delicate white flower between two fingers thoughtfully, golden gaze never leaving yours. “The last time we were in the meadow, this came back with me. I knew that if this existed, then you did.” 

“Why did you leave?” 

“My time with my Uncle was done; he could not teach me what I needed to know. I found someone else, or rather, he found me. It was not my intention to leave you, but it was the price of being his Apprentice.” 

“What did you need to know?” _Was sacrificing our friendship worth it?_

“How to accomplish what my Grandfather came so close to doing all those years ago,” He averted his eyes then, fixing them on the tiny flower. How was it still so pristine and alive after all these years? _He’d kept it with him this entire time?_ An unwelcome pang of tenderness lanced through you. Perhaps your Ben wasn’t entirely lost after all. 

“Well, you’re Emperor now. There’s really not much you can do to top that.” 

“There is one thing missing,” he says casually, slowly. He is choosing his words carefully. 

“Really? What more could you possibly want?” 

“You.” 

_Heart thud._

“Well, sorry to say, but as long as I’m your prisoner it isn’t going to happen. And let’s be honest here, it likely won’t regardless. You can’t just disappear, show back up, completely tear me out of my life, and then expect me to be your girlfriend.” 

“I don’t want you to be my girlfriend.” 

_Nerfherder!_

Oh, wait.... 

_Somehow we have to convince the Galaxy that a little backwater ragamuffin is their Empress._ Hux’s voice is unnaturally loud as you recall his precise words. Suddenly, you feel ill. 

Your head lowers into your hands and your fingers begin working at your temples to try and stem the quickly spreading headache. “You’re here to explain, so explain.” 

“The Force...works in mysterious ways.” He’s obviously hedging, wanting to keep some truths in shadow. 

“Stars help me, I will asphyxiate you with your own stupid cape.” 

“Then you _really_ wouldn’t have any answers.” A ghost of a smile wisps across his full mouth. Another odd pang and thud of your heart. You’d always been attracted to him of course, but men as beautiful as the one before you now were best kept at an arm’s length lest their egos get inflated. He was already arrogant and high-handed enough as it was. 

A lengthy pause and a resigned sigh later, he continued. 

“The meadow was...something I’ve never encountered before. I’ve only ever read about such things. The best I can make of it is that it was a pocket in the Force, one made specifically for our combined essence. The only way to access these pockets, according to what accounts I could find, is by projecting the Force consciousness from one’s body; such as many young Force users do unconsciously when they dream. I’ve long suspected you have untapped Force sensitivity, and this only serves to add to that theory.” 

Despite your continued pique and fatigue, you found yourself fully attentive. “Is that why neither one of us intended to go there? We were just pulled in?” You dismiss the idea that you’re Force sensitive entirely. It would explain, potentially, why you were able to resist his attempts to get into your head, but you weren’t convinced. 

“By the pocket itself, yes. Things have a way of happening; fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it. This is the basis of prophecy. When something is meant to be, it will happen, regardless of what you try to do to stop it. Some fools even bring upon the fate they were trying so desperately to avoid by their own attempts to avoid it.” His mouth gives a bitter twist, as if he is disgusted by a memory. Then, he turns hesitant. “You will most likely not like this next part.” 

“Joke’s on you because I don’t like any of the parts.” A scowl burdens his brow and you have to resist the urge to smirk at him. Instead, you wave him on impatiently. _Can’t do much more damage than you’ve already done, nerfherder._

“These pockets are rare, and rare for a reason. They’re believed to be things of prophecy, meant to bring together two souls for a greater purpose. I found no accounts similar to ours though. Only tales of dreaming of similar places, or dreams of the other in that place. And absolutely no mentions of being able to take something from such a place into the waking world.” He runs a hand through his thick raven hair, his massive shoulders only getting more tense as he speaks. “My grandfather told me once that he had constant dreams of my grandmother before he met her. His experiences were nearly the same as ours just not as....” he seemed to search for a word, “intense.” Kylo Ren meets your eyes then, going eerily still - as if awaiting your reaction. “It is fated that you will be my wife.” 

It takes you longer than you’d like to regain the ability to speak. When you do, you sputter. 

“So because of some Force hoodoo, you decided to kidnap me and force me to marry you? Was it too much trouble to simply _talk to me?_ Catch up the way normal friends do? See if the old feelings are even still there?!” Years of repressed anguish bubbled to the surface. “You had been my friend, my _only_ friend. And you just....you just left me behind without a word. Don’t you think I deserved to know what the actual hells was going on? I actually mostly managed to convince myself that you weren’t real - because it was better than the alternative of believing that you were dead.” 

He intakes a sharp breath. 

“You thought I was dead?” 

You stand then and storm over to him, practically vibrating with feeling, with the need to strike out. He is still seated, patiently watching you as a predator might clock the movements of its prey. 

“Let’s review, shall we? You tell me little of your life, only that you are off training with some strict Uncle and performing death defying feats because you have abilities that make you a target. And then, you just disappear entirely. After **swearing** to me that you would never do that to me! That no matter what happened in our lives we would always have each other! So me, being the idiot girl that I was, believed you. I believed you and I trusted you and then you kriffing **left!** ” 

Your hand strikes out of its own accord, but he catches it before it can make contact with his stoic, sharp features. The grip on your wrist is firm but gentle. A stark, brows drawn expression is eating away the blankness of his features and his golden eyes practically glow with something akin to longing remorse. 

The years seem to catch up with you all at once; the fatigue and hunger and loneliness. The screams of the women who weren’t strong enough to fight back and the cries of the children who were too young to fend for themselves. 

He uses his grip on your captured wrist to gently draw you into him. You are too tired, too weak to put up much fight when he secures you in his lap, even going so far as to wrap the long dark cloak around both of you. You were shivering, shaking, unable to catch your breath. Tears threatened, but you forced them back. You were at his mercy enough already; crying in front of him and validating his notions would only make things worse. You needed time, space - but all at once you desperately wanted to be exactly where you were in that moment. 

His warmth and strength was a shield against the memories and his heartbeat was a lullaby. One arm clasped your torso to him while the other looped under your legs and kept a firm grip on your thigh. You could only assume the cloak had closed around both of you as it did with the force of his will. It takes some time before your breathing begins to slow. He seems to know better than to say anything for the moment and just lets you calm down, one hand idly stroking your back as he tucks your head up under his chin. 

You were very nearly half asleep when he finally breaks the silence. 

“I’m sorry, lamb.” His throat works, adam’s apple bobbing with some thick emotion. “But I’m no longer a wayward boy who doesn’t keep his promises. I swear to you, this is the last night we will part.” 

“This is too much, too soon.” You feel him nod in agreement, his warm lips pressing to your forehead. 

“I know. I’m not ready for this either, to be honest. But it’s too dangerous for you to be without my protection and influence. If anyone ever discovered what you mean to me, they could ask for anything and I would be powerless to not give it to them.” 

You burrow your face into the crook of his neck to cover your flushed cheeks. How could he feel so strongly, after all this time? How could someone like him feel so strongly about you in general? 

“So, what now?” You skirt the topic of his devotion, and he allows it. 

He smiles into your hair and for a moment, hugging you a bit tighter. 

“Now, you sleep. Because tomorrow, we’re going to take tea with my mother. She’s very much looking forward to meeting you.” He lifts you then as if you weigh nothing - considering you’ve lived on stale nutrient paste and roots thus far you almost did - and deposits you into the small bed. He leans in to brush a kiss over your forehead again, long callused fingers trailing lovingly over your cheek as he departs. 

“You are not my prisoner, by the way. I don’t want to risk anyone knowing of your identity before we are back in the capitol. Too many things can go wrong. Any preferential treatment would raise suspicion.” 

“Of course. Just bring me more pudding and unlimited hot water and we’re even.” You’re face deep into your pillow, already half way into a dream. 

You don’t hear him leave but you do feel his absence. It is a nagging blank spot in a corner of your mind that makes room for more restless uncertainty. Your sleep is light, on the razor’s edge of nonexistent. Worse yet, dreams that are perchance not dreams come to life behind your closed eyes. You dream of golden eyes going red and black fire, but it is the heartbroken wail of the dying woman that wakes you, her agony filled shriek still echoing in your ears...


	5. IV: Castle on a Cloud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally arrive at your destination and it is nothing you expect. Leia makes an offer you may or may not refuse....

You wake again at an indeterminable hour and decide to finally give up the struggle of fully abating your fatigue. Your mind is abuzz with the images and intuitions that plagued you in your dreams.

All that talk of fate must have gotten to you; there was definitive proof that Kylo Ren was indeed something a bit more than the average human. The Force was reputedly what allowed him to manipulate the minds of others and suspend unsuspecting victims midair - but that did not mean he knew all there was to know about it - even he admitted most of what he had learned regarding their supposed connection was balanced precariously on vague theory at best. 

The arrival of the service droid proves enough of a distraction to drag your exhausted mind from both your dreams and the debate of their meaning - or lack thereof. Instead of the caff and breakfast you’d been hoping for, S4-24 merrily whirrs in with a long, light box in its arms. You catch a glimpse of Hux at the door. He gives you an incline of his head and a knowing smile before the doors whir closed once more. 

_What's he so smug about?_

You turn back to the droid to assess it’s offering. 

“Twenty-four, what is this?” 

“Beep-bop-blip-whiir-whiirr-wooo!” 

“We arrived at our destination while I slept? Oh, well, that makes sense I suppose. Thank you, Twenty-four.” 

“Blip-whir-woo?” 

“No, I don’t need anything else. I can wait to eat with the General.” You can only assume the General is perhaps Kylo’s father? Regardless, eating before an arranged dinner with someone seemed incredibly rude. You are positively famished, but instinctively you know that your nerves will likely prevent you from enjoying food for the moment. 

You take the box with you into the ‘fresher. After washing your face and brushing your teeth, you peek at the contents. Inside, as you had been informed, were underthings and a dress, along with matching accessories. 

It was the familiar beauty of the garment that made you gasp audbily. 

_The dress from your last dream with him._

Shaking hands stroked the fabric with awed reverence. Real. Just as sheer and gauzy and perfect as you remembered. The clasps, the belt, all of it! Several deep breaths later, you remember that you are on a time restriction. You shed your current garments and slip into the white lacy panties and bra, blushing at the knowledge that Kylo had certainly picked these things out with you in mind. 

The dress whispers over your skin, making your breath hitch. Had any material ever been so soft, so _sensual?_ You sigh in contentment, simply enjoying the feeling of wearing something so.. **lovely.** Practicality never allowed you to even fantasize about such finery, so actually wearing something like this is surreal. 

Your fingers brush through your long hair and pin it with the golden comb in the box. It is still a somewhat messy mass, with curls hanging about to and fro and plenty still framing your face but you deem it good enough. It would take an entire army to tame your hair, regardless. You don’t have the time to even try. 

The shoes were golden as well, the finest leather. Buttery soft and consisting of several interwoven straps. It takes you longer than you are willing to admit to figure out how to best place them on your dainty feet, but eventually you secure the clasp on each side of your ankle. 

How is it possible he found the exact outfit? 

Cool metal kisses your neck as you clasp the weighty pendant on. The stone there is some pearlescent mineral you’ve no name for. The matching earrings are next and you deem yourself as presentable as you’re going to get. 

You exit the ‘fresher to find Kylo sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Again, he stands as you enter. 

“Why do you do that?” You ask on impulse, attempting to distract yourself not only from the revelations of last night and the way his eyes are drinking you in, but from the throb of desire that spikes through you when you see him dressed in a sharp charcoal uniform. His broad shoulders are only made more impressive via the tight fit. The clasps and cufflinks are a cool silver, and a vibrant red sash crosses one shoulder and loops around his waist. A sort of formal uniform? 

“It is customary to stand when a lady, especially as one as important as you, enters or leaves the room.” 

“Oh,” you say idly, nibbling your bottom lip. It appears you desperately need a crash course in Imperial etiquette. As if sensing your thoughts, Kylo offers you his arm. 

“It’s nothing to worry about. This tea will be relatively informal compared to later events; it is no more than a light lunch.You will have plenty of time to adjust, and I have a staff on hand for you that will make the transition smoother.” He leads you from your tiny cell and you are glad to finally be rid of it, despite the nerves making your belly squirm. 

“Exactly how many people do you think it will take to turn me into a lady of the court?” You ask wryly, trying to your best to ignore the way the occasional silver armored man or woman would let their curious gaze linger a bit longer than they were supposed to. 

“You will be _the_ lady of the court, and I’ve allotted fourteen; fifteen counting Hux as your personal head of security.” 

“I bet he’s thrilled.” 

“He is quite pleased. Most of his ego is actually justified. He was the best qualified for the position.” He comes to a stop in front of the airlocked exit. “I have put these people through countless security measures and checks. They have all passed - but if a security breach is to happen and I am not near, you are to only trust Hux and Minerva. Do you understand?” 

He is speaking like there will be consistent and imminent danger at every turn. As if you didn’t have enough doubts already! You nod your agreement. A gloved hand tilts your chin up to meet his eyes. 

“Use your words.” 

“I understand; if there is trouble and you are not present I’m to seek out and stay by Hux or Minerva. Granted, it would help if I knew who Minerva was.” 

“Oh, you will be meeting her very soon. I may or may not be intentionally delaying the inevitable though - you’ve had enough shocks to your system for a day.” 

You scoff, daring to roll your eyes at him. “Oh, sure, _now_ you’re concerned about how much change I can take.” Your words carry true frustration but you’re hard pressed to keep a smile in check as you both wait for the airlocks to be disengaged. 

His answering almost-smile is just as wry as ever. “Trust me, when you finally do meet her, you will understand why I waited. I daresay she’s in danger of swarming you once word spreads of my return. She’s very eager to meet you. Luckily enough, Hux put her to work with putting the final touches on your rooms.” 

“Yeah that’s me, the girl everyone wants to meet.” Exactly how long did it take for the airlocks to open? “Wait, did you say _rooms?_ ” 

Kylo’s smile turns sly. “You will see, lamb.” 

_Sneaky nerfherder._

You are practically bouncing on your heels by the time the many thick metal doors open. You pass through the protective tunnel and pause at the threshold of the final door. 

Your breath leaves you. 

Your first thought is that he was able to somehow pull your meadow into existence, enlarge it by many kilometers, and then drastically improve on a somehow already perfect scene. The noon sun is high in the sky and the day is bright and warm. A balmy breeze passes through, carrying the scent of fresh greenery and sun-warmed strawberries. 

The dock is elevated over a sun-struck, lush green valley. Two mossy mountains frame either side, an impressive obsidian bridge between them. On this side of the bridge is the outline of a massive city, while the other boasts open, fertile fields. And in the very, very distance, an honest to stars _ocean_ sparkles in hues of blue-green. You can smell the salt water! 

You basically float down the ramp, craning your neck around to keep the ocean in view a bit longer, before you round the ship. 

This time, you _reel_ on your feet at the view before you. Kylo was apparently prepared for this sort of reaction, and radiates with male smugness as he steadies you against his sturdy frame. Long brawny arms loop around your waist and pull you into his front. He leans down to rest his chin on top of your head, brushing an idle kiss there. 

On an elevated piece of the lush greenery looms a an imposing structure, structure. A _castle._ It stands so high that mists envelop the middle of it, the very tops of the turrets disappearing into the clouds. Like the bridge, it is made of black stone. The edges of the structure are sharp and the walls are high. You can see the distant silhouettes of hundreds of armed guards stationed at intervals along the gates and scattered about the ramparts. 

The path to the palace gates is lined with bountiful fruit trees and wildflowers. An ache builds in your chest and threatens to spill over when you spy wild strawberries ripening freely - _and the white flowers from the meadow in full bloom everywhere._

The rasp of his lips are at your ear and you can feel him smiling. “Welcome home, lamb.” 

Two silver troopers open the gates for your small entourage. Trumpets sound. Hux and his higher ranking troopers give you and Kylo plenty of space. 

Your awe only grows as you take in the interior walls of the palace. Massive, sprawling gardens stretch out before you. Directly in front looks like the entrance to one of the labyrinths of legend. 

“The Tea Gardens are to the right, and your private gardens are to the left. They curve along your....well, you will see.” 

You have to resist the decidedly unladylike impulse to elbow him in the ribs. You are still very unsure of the entire situation, but you are also notoriously curious - something that he was clearly using against you. He would do the same exact thing in the meadow when you were younger. More often than not it would end with a tussle - your knees planted in his chest as he flailed and pretended he couldn’t simply lift you off him. 

The memory all but ensures your eyes are much softer when you look back up at him from underneath your lashes. He is composed, nigh stoic as usual, but there is a familiar sparkle in his new amber eyes that make you realize something you had been an idiot to miss before. _This isn’t some weird trick. He wants me to be happy here._ Hadn’t he admitted the night before this was a shock to him as well? That he knew they were moving too quickly? Maybe this was the best solution of many. But why the rush? 

You nibble your lip. _If a security breach is to hoppen, trust only Hux or Minerva._

There was an element of danger, you supposed, else he wouldn’t have felt the need. It rankles that he doesn’t just speak to you plainly, but when had he ever? _Introverted_ was an understatement. Granted, you were not the most outgoing person yourself. But you actually spoke in complete, detailed sentences which gave you a one up on him. Getting actual information out of this man was near impossible. 

“What is that?” You asked, pointing directly ahead to were an arch shaped trellis holds open the entrance to the maze-like hedges. 

“That is the entrance to the main hall, but we will be skipping the grand tour for the day. Time moves differently here; don’t be surprised if you’re tired again a few hours from now.” 

You were tired already, but you left that bit out. “Interesting.” 

Once Hux and his soldiers caught up, Kylo gave them vague directives and sent them on their way. You were only half listening, your attention taken up by an odd sort of hum that seemed to be coming from your right. 

The Tea Gardens, you found, were indeed a massive of colorful shrubs and what must have been thousands of different colored, fragrant species of flowers. They were immaculate and stunning. Marble fountains were interspersed, as well as benches and bird baths, completing the picture. Upon a shaded dai was a small square table. 

The hum was coming from the woman seated there. 

Your approach slows dramatically, and you all but dig your heels in. 

“It can be a lot at first, but don’t be afraid. She will not harm you.” Kylo is at your ear again, his warm dark voice both soothing you and making you want to suckerpunch him. It would be at least helpful if you knew _what_ that humming was. Well, even a basic non-Force wielding pleb like you knew what it was. _Power._ And a lot of it. Kylo gave off power as well but his frequency was lower, deeper. Darker. This woman’s power signature was the pure vibrational tone of an angelic bell. 

**_Light wielder._** The strength of that unsuspected and intuitive conclusion startles you. It was your thought, but it was almost as if it was placed there by another entity.... 

Unsettled, you continue your approach. It wasn’t as if the unrelenting arm around your waist would let you slip away. 

The woman rose. Kind yet fierce hazel eyes regard you silently. You eke out a small, reluctant smile. The woman does not smile back, though you almost think she seems amused by your discomfort. 

“Mother, I present my bride to be. Lamb, this is my mother, Princess Leia Organa-Solo.” 

The woman all but rolled her eyes at the formal introduction. “Son, I have not been a Princess in over thirty years. I’ve asked you to address me as General, for that is what I am.” 

Kylo stiffens beside you. “The Rebel Alliance is no more, ergo, you are no longer a General. You were a Princess of a proud people, and you will be addressed as such.” 

“As you wish, my Liege.” Leia responds dryly, and you get the sense that she is merely appearing to agree when they both know this will come up again later. “Run along then, we women have womanly things to discuss.” 

Instantly, you panic. 

“You’re not staying?” Your eyes find his, and he shakes his head. 

“I have pressing matters to attend to, but I will see you for dinner.” He leans forward and places a kiss on the top of your head. “Just relax and enjoy yourself. All will be well, I promise.” He brushes a brief kiss against his mother’s cheek, and then he is gone. Your eyes cling to his broad, retreating back as if you're watching a lifeline float away. Perhaps, in a way, you are. Even as strange to you as he was now, he was still the only thing remotely familiar nearby. You did not adjust to change well. 

“Do have a seat, dear. The tea is lovely.” She returns to her own seat, resuming the making of her own cup. There are offerings of what look like to be small sandwiches and various sliced fruits. They look appetizing enough but your stomach recoils at the idea of ingesting anything. “My son tells me that you are here of your own free will. Is this true?” 

You freeze halfway into getting seated. Okay, so no small talk. Just jumping right in. You could respect that. Once you’re settled in, you debate on how to proceed. 

“Being brought here was...unexpected. But I was not mistreated.” 

Shrewd hazel eyes consider you carefully from over the rim of a delicate teacup. “So if I were to offer you a chance to leave Valeria tonight, you wouldn’t take it?” 

“Valeria? Is that the name of the planet?” 

The older woman takes a deep breath. “I see he’s as forthcoming as ever with the women he claims to love.” She gestures towards the tea and you obediently pour yourself a cup. “Yes, dear girl. I can get you off planet tonight, if that is what you wish.” She drinks then, her eyes never leaving yours. “But I need to know within the next fifteen minutes.” 

_Love?_

“I- I don’t know -” 

Seemingly unaffected by your clear indecision, she takes a sip of tea. “Tick tock, dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Sorry about the later than usual update - this chapter was a bit of a struggle. Wanted to get it just right; also, babysitting is not conducive to writing. Hopefully the slightly longer chapter makes up for it! Oh, and this chapter title was inspired by 'Castle on a Cloud' by Of Verona. It is a hauntingly beautiful song that gives me MAJOR SF feels! <3 I will endeavor to get the next chapter up ASAP. Also, I feel you budding fangirls should know that Kylo POV one-shots are in the works, as well as Flashback POVS from those days in the meadow! I really feel like they would roundout the story and add more depth without detracting from it. What do you guys think? As always please excuse any typos/minor errors. I'm feeling a little under the weather lately and again, screaming children are not the best muses.
> 
> SPECIAL DEDICATION: To Luna Vega, who stepped up to put up me in the writing process and Beta this fic! <3 Thanks again, doll!


	6. V: Stubbornness isn't a Superpower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your tea time with Leia continues and an old question finally receives an answer.

Leia never breaks eye contact as you internally and externally gape at her like a brain-damaged fish. You are unable to look away either - the power behind her eyes draws you in like a tractor beam.

You’d not even been on the kriffing planet thirty minutes and you were already looking at another abrupt and intrusive departure; granted you hadn’t _exactly_ had a choice in coming but... 

“I understand that there has been a lot of change for you dear, but please, consider this carefully before dredging up some thinly veiled excuses of how you cannot leave or lies of how you wish to stay.” She takes a bracing sip of tea, closing those hazel eyes. When she opens them again, they are stark. She suddenly looks to have aged fifty years, and the weariness in her tone contradicts the strength still in her presence. 

You test your voice and find it thankfully free of tremors. “I understand. I can’t say it was exactly my decision to come but...I do still care about your son. He was my friend for a long time.” 

“I know, dear. But it is not Ben I’m trying to protect you from.” She reaches across the table and places her warm, soft hand on yours. 

The contact of her skin sizzles across your nerves and sends powerful, nearly painful tingles up your arm. _Balance._ _Patience._ **_Love._** These impressions pour into you via her touch and you suddenly feel as if you will burst from the sheer power behind them. A secondary effect is that, despite your shock at being able to feel anything at all, you are gradually calmed. Your heartbeat and breathing slows and you are soon able to think much more clearly. 

Leia gives your hand a light squeeze. “There are dangers here that are not apparent. They will reveal themselves soon enough but by the time they do it will be too late. Political intrigues can be even more deadly than a full-scale battlefield. A whisper into the right ear can cripple your enemy before they even know they’re at war. Ben and I are used to such a climate, but you are not. And there is one particular person I suspect would only be too happy to dispatch you.” She sighs, shaking her head. “My son would of course take every measure of precaution he can, but he is too confident in his own influence to presume anyone would even dare to strike at you while you are his.” 

“But I’m not _his._ You can’t own a person,” you gulp at your semi-belligerent tone and hastily add, “General.” 

The General chuckles at your expense, waving away your attempt at appeasement. “No need, dear girl. You may call me Leia. But I am pleased that you’re not entirely demure as I expected. Perhaps you might survive in court after all; I am still pressed to offer an out, however.” Her smile gradually fades, and you get the sense that she has seen too much for for too long. “There are shadows in Ben, but he is not lost. The boy you knew is still in there somewhere. I believe that more than I have ever believed anything. I know that a fully fallen Jedi is capable of many things, but -” She withdraws her hand then, tilting her head at you, as if just realizing something. 

“But what?” 

“But they cannot love. They cannot _be_ loved. This, I have learned the hard way. Ben is not truly fallen, otherwise you would not be here.” She speaks this as if it is unshakable fact. You will have to trust her word on it as Kylo/Ben was the only Jedi you’ve met. Questions surge to pass your lips all at once but with great effort, you manage to keep them at bay. Leia is much more forthcoming than her son, but you still sense that she is only going to tell you so much. Not for the same reasons as Kylo, perhaps - rather because...some things still hurt to say out loud. 

Also, it is none of your business, you’d only just met. You understand this, being a very private person yourself. So you again bite your tongue and try to find the best response to this. How exactly does one respond to one’s prospective mother in law offering to smuggle one away from the prospective... 

‘Husband’ is just not a word you can attach to the unusually tall, broad, and contradictory Kylo Ren. The fact of the matter was you two still had much to work out - and you aren’t even sure if you _wanted_ to work it out. And it is no longer semi-childish feelings of being abandoned or the hurt and worry he had caused with his absence that made you hesitate. It is _him._ He had changed drastically, so drastically that you felt you barely knew him. Those eyes, the power radiating from his very core. The dark tendrils you could sense inside him, poised and ready to snare you at a moments notice.. He had the same face as Ben Solo, but Kylo Ren had burrowed into the hole inside your friend’s heart and would not be shaken loose so easily - if ever. 

You had wondered why the name change was necessary, why any of this was necessary - but you understand the ways of the Force and it’s wielders as well as a flower might understand photosynthesis. You feel the effects of its existence, but do not know how to explain them. 

Ben had once told you that Jedi are forbidden to love... 

And there was that ‘L’ word again.. 

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m fairly certain that he doesn’t love me. You don’t kidnap those you love.” You busy yourself by snatching up a piece of strawberry and dipping it into the whipped cream. Bliss sizzles along your tongue and you literally have to bite back a moan of delight. How could such a small, common fruit taste so delicious? 

You’d had your first strawberry via a travelling merchant who’d gotten stuck on Korian. He was carrying all kinds of cargo, most of which he was forced to trade out in order to receive some assistance in getting back up and running again. The only reason he wasn’t immediately murdered and picked clean was he’d been smart enough to get stranded with a garrison of heavily armed and well-paid mercenaries. 

You’d helped connect him with the locals and gave him a tour, and he had rewarded you with enough food to eat for a month. You were young, alone, and an easy target. Most of what you’d earned was taken from you but you’d managed to save a small carton of sun ripened strawberries, and those had almost been worth the hunger pangs you’d suffered after. 

“That is where we must disagree,” her smile is kind but again, her words are absolute. “Ben does not show he cares in the common ways. He never has. He takes after his father in that fashion, as well as many others, though I would not suggest telling him that.” Leia chuckles a bit then, as if at a private joke. “In truth, he tells me even less than he tells you. We are not as close as we once were, and I am at fault for that. I was not there for him when I should have been, and that is a mistake I will regret until I am one with the Force again.” She pauses, and a warm breeze ruffles her elegantly styled hair. It is a rich shade of chestnut that is showing a touch of grey in places, and much lighter than Kylo’s jet black hair. Perhaps he’d inherited his dark, smoldering good looks from his father? 

“Ben is a man of extremes. He is as kind as he can be to his allies, and ruthless to his enemies. There is a fine line between love and hate, it is said. And no proverb could be applied to my son’s life more accurately than that. I feel like you should know what to expect, should you choose to stay and let things play out however they will. My son will protect you, honor you, and do everything in his power to attain your happiness...but his methods might not be what you wish. The Dark Side has taken root in him, and does not allow him to see the Light as clearly as he once did. He is beyond what I can do for him, but I believe with time, you could help guide his hand for the better. No one will ever fully be able to control him; you’d have better chances training a Rancor to do the waltz.” She smiled a sad smile, “but I do believe that you could be the Light he’d lost so long ago, if you were so inclined.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. First you were all, ‘fifteen minutes to decide if you wanna blow this joint!’ And now you want me to stay?” You blink rapidly, splaying your hands in the air. 

Leia chuckles. “Let’s just say that as we’ve spoken, I’ve seen more than enough to convince me that you might be more of an asset than a liability here. Please, I mean no offense. I’ve just seen too many innocents struck down in the name of power in my years. I wanted to spare you the trials and pain, if I could. If being here was not truly something you wished.” She sighs, idly stirring her tea and peering into it now as if it might give her the answers her expression says she craves beyond anything. “I’m afraid we would be hard pressed to find a system that my son wouldn’t tear apart to find you.” She shrugs then, looking entirely too... _innocent._ “Ah, well, the Force works in mysterious ways. Perhaps you are meant to be here after all, given you do have some tender regard toward him.” 

Again, you’re left without words and an open mouth. 

“M’am, did you just _test_ me?” 

A tinkling, shameless laugh. 

“Why yes, my dear, I did! And you passed with flying colors!” 

A somewhat wheezy, dumbstruck laugh escapes your lips. “So does this mean you approve of me?” You suddenly find yourself in dire need of a strong cup of tea and pour yourself another helping of the delicious brew. 

“I approve of you very much. Now, don’t be cross with me. I had to assess your character - I could have used other methods but, considering your a Force adept yourself, I would have given myself away.” She sipped her tea daintily in an unassuming manner and you felt bubbling hysteria crawling your way up your throat. You had not expected this lighthearted, almost catty side of her at all. Still, underneath the silk you could sense the steel. 

You roll your eyes. “Why does everyone keep saying I am able to do Force hoodoo? If I was, trust me, I would have thrown your mule-headed son about the ship by now.” You add sugar cubes and cream to your concoction with a tad more force than necessary 

“Oh? Well, then I must be as senile as my dear husband claims! He will be relieved that after over thirty years of marriage he can finally say that he was right about something!” The amusement in her eyes belies her stern, wry tone. 

Your cheeks flush and you stammer, but she raises a hand to cut you off. “No harm done, dear. I can sense it is very deeply rooted, and much unused. It is a smidgen, but even a small amount of openness to the Force and all it entails can lead to many great things.” She summons a nearby, silent servant with a wave of her hand. The table is cleared, only one teacup remaining in the very center of the pristine white lace tablecloth. 

“Humor me, dear. Have you ever tried accessing your latent abilities?” Leia asks curiously, fixing you with her maternal stare once again. 

You mutely shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. You doubt any further denial would persuade her of your lack of ability when it comes to the power she and her son wield. 

“Alright. Well, I will show you how it is done and I would like you to try. I will walk you through it - this is a Padawan training exercise, so it shouldn’t be too straining for you. I want you to clear your mind. Focus on the cup and nothing but. Imagine the cup being lighter than air...” 

Two nimble, ringed fingers curved and the teacup obediently lifted from the table, hovering steadily. 

You blink in amazement at this casual display. 

“Your turn, love.” Leia smiles at you warmly, slowly lowering the teacup back down again. 

“Alright, but I hope you like disappointment...” You take a deep breath and clear your mind as best you can. Niggling thoughts and anxiety still nip at the corners of your mind but you honestly try to keep them out. The teacup in your mind’s eye is made of air and gently floating as before, when it was under Leia’s influence. 

It doesn’t budge. 

“Well, that theory is a bust. Is being really stubborn a super power? Maybe that’s why you all can’t easily get into my head - “ 

Leia waves your dismissal way. “No, dear, you definitely possess a connection to the Force. As it happens sometimes, these connections are discouraged or buried deeply, so as to be hidden. It could be your mind resists it for many reasons, but whatever the reason, we must resolve it first.” She crooks her finger at you and you obediently lean forward, brow furrowed. Against your better judgement you are quite curious. 

The intrusion into your mind is so subtle and swift that you don’t even know she’s there until it’s too late. It is something akin to a mother’s hand brushing against her child’s forehead to soothe them. And then, her presence is gone, and you’re left with a dull headache building at the base of your skull. 

“Hrmm, your natural resistance to manipulation is quite intriguing and will most certainly come in handy. You are not immune, however, as I just proved; you will definitely still need training in that arena. Don’t misunderstand me, dear. I am not doing this to prove I am right - I am doing this to show you what potential you have, and how dangerous it can be if left untrained.” 

You nod, feeling a trickle of unease at her words. 

“Now, try again dear, just like last time.” 

You go through the motions yet again, and your mind is a bit clearer this time. A bit sharper. You breathe deep, visualize, and... 

Leia’s soft question cuts through your concentration. “How did your parents die?” 

_The teacup shatters._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that the Cloaked Wonder didn't show up in this one guys - he's busy ruling the Galaxy or whatever. He will be back next chapter! So, what did you think? This chapter basically wrote itself and I'm super pleased with how it turned out. Leia definitely has a sly, devious, tricksy side and I adore it. <3 Please remember to comment and leave me your honest thoughts and feels! 
> 
> Also, poll question; would you guys prefer longer chapters and less frequent updates or shorter chapters (2,000 to 3,000 words) and daily/every two days updates?


	7. VI: Checkmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia imparts some priceless wisdom and a warning. Kylo is clearly hiding something, and dragging you off to a private dinner so you can 'settle things.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update guys - hopefully the longer length and Kylo's return make up for it! Even if I did end on another cliffhanger....sorry. <3 But yes, an update! I will be kicked down to posting about once a week. Not only did work kick up but I have other projects and I do want to take a little more time on the chapters now that we're getting into the real plot heavy/smut heavy portions of the story! I want to make them really awesome for you! And this means longer chapters, too! <3 
> 
> Hoping this finds you all well! As always please excuse minor mistakes! And remember, comments = life!

_Head pounding, vision narrowing. **Why can’t you catch your breath?**_

The fragments of delicate, patterned glass still remaining on the table rattle in warning. The excess energy inside you is determined to lash out. Most shards had embedded themselves deeply into the thin wooden posts holding up the swaths of fine silks shading you from the sun. Your heart thumps with horror when you spy the barely there line of red on Leia’s cheek. 

A thin, shimmering blue light is wavering back and forth in front of her but there is a tiny tear in it - aligning with right where her cheek is cut. “Well, that will teach me to poke a sleeping dragon,” she smiles warmly at you and you don’t know how to process this.

She lowers her hand, and what you realize must have been some kind of barrier wavers and then disappears. “I’m certainly not on par with my brother, dear, but it takes quite some power to pierce my shields; I dearly hope you are not too angry with me. I know my methods were less than scrupulous, but I had to know what we were working with.” She dabs at the cut nonchalantly with a dainty white kerchief. “Now do you see? Untrained force users are potentially more dangerous than fallen ones. It is more in tune with your emotions than your intent at this stage, and can lash out readily even when you mean no harm. Your instincts are to protect yourself, and the Force will follow suit, but one day instead of throwing up a shield you might snap someone’s spine with a blast.” 

She pauses, sipping her tea. 

Ice slinks through your system as the implications set in. You could have taken her eye, or, _Stars, you could have killed her!_ You aren’’t angry - you are shell shocked. Your brain buzzes and your vision wavers; it feels as if you’ve been carrying tons of weight and then suddenly, the weight is gone and you are massively off balance. 

You are nauseated, dizzy, _giddy_ in a way. You can wield the Force, like Ben! Worry laced over your heart at the thought - how would he react? You’d like to think he’d be pleased or at the very least indifferent. The heart of the matter is you can’t predict a whit of how he would respond to any given thing, and you never really could. Whenever you thought he’d laugh, he got upset by something between the lines of what you joked about. Whenever you thought he’d be upset, he’d give a low and self deprecating laugh inspired by something darkly humorous that you weren’t able to connect with. 

It sinks in fully then, just how different you two are, and always was. Always would be. _How in the kriff is this ever going to work out?_

It isn’t. 

“I’m so sorry, Leia,” you whisper, hands shaking as they clutch the table in an effort to keep you from simply sliding from your seat. 

“No harm done, love.” How is she so utterly _pleasant_ after that? The older woman isn’t fazed at all! You have your suspicions this was the result she was after. 

“Would you be saying that if the shard had lodged into your eye instead?” Your words are slightly heated, snappish. Your face flushes with both anger and remorse. 

“Well, had that happened I imagine it would only be what I deserved for prodding at such a tender subject. I am truly sorry, dear girl, but it had to be done. I had to be sure that the power I sensed within you was truly that great. And now, I have my answer.” 

“What now?” You scoot back a bit, allowing the servants resetting the table some additional room. The more distance between you and other living beings right now, the better. 

“That is the question isn’t it? What now indeed...” She taps her chin thoughtfully, amusement in her dark eyes. You can still see the gears turning however, and a flicker of intuition tells you that this lighthearted, playful mein isn’t an act, rather a useful distraction method. Her shrewd nature and strength is apparent. You get the sense that she is crafting, modifying, and discarding several potential plans all in the time it takes to finish mixing a new tea. “You will train, of course. As to who will train you, I’m afraid will be a bit trickier. I’m sure I can convince my son to allow you to hone your abilities, but that is all I can guarantee.” 

You tilt your head, another spike of annoyance making your mouth twist into a frown. 

“ _Allow me?_ I’d think he wouldn’t want me accidentally blowing things up whenever he pisses me off. Which, I feel, will be pretty frequent.” 

Another tinkling, amused laugh. 

“Oh, you are quite the contradictory treasure. I will enjoy seeing how this plays out very much indeed.” She coyly slants a calculating look your way. “I understand it can be galling, dear. But if you are clever, you can still find ways to maintain most of your independence. Understand that our dear Emperor is under a tremendous amount of strain on a daily basis, and much is riding on his shoulders. He must show strength and absolute control at all times, and blatantly undermining his authority in front of even the cleaning staff can chip away at his influence and power - the very influence and power that keeps the worst of the danger at bay.” Leia’s face shadowed then, the fine lines on her face becoming much more apparent, as if to press the point home. “Many think my son a remorseless monster, but there is much worse than him in the Galaxy. We were lucky enough to receive the lesser of many evils this time - if he is to fall, I very much doubt we would be able to make the same claim twice.” 

A long moment of silence passes between you; the idle enjoyment of tea and small cakes and fruits. The flowers in bloom all around you make the air smell sweet. You can feel the hum of life all around you, and despite your own inner turmoil, it is a comfort. 

“Would you care for a game of chess, dear?” The General asks, and you bite your lip. 

“I’m not familiar with the game, but I can try?” 

“Of course! I will teach you - Ben is a wonderful player, himself. Hux too, though that isn’t a surprise. The man is a brilliant strategist, probably the best I’ve seen in my years. If he’d been under my command....well, things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did. But perhaps that is for the best.” 

“What do you mean?” It was bothersome to only get bits and pieces of a story, of a history that drastically affected you with its aftermath. It did not sound like a pretty tale but few that affected the Galaxy on this scale were. 

“Never you mind. All will revealed in time. Some stories are not mine to tell.” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

You are not entirely terrible at chess but you are certainly no match for Leia, either - _and_ you have the sneaking suspicion that she is taking it easy on you. Granted you can’’t entirely be sure - she is a hard woman to read. Her face and eyes are expressive and bright, quick with a smile or a knowing look. But there are many hidden facets as well. Cogs moving underneath the surface, powering a mind that you would never be able to fully fathom. 

Now, who could that possibly remind you of? 

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. 

Kyo chooses that moment to darken the draped entrance of the little patio dais, looking out of place against the bright and feminine setting. 

“Dinner will be served soon.” His mien is strained, and his golden eyes shine with annoyance. Whatever had annoyed him initially seemed to be annoying him still. 

Leia gives a cheshire smirk. “Good evening, my liege. Trouble at court? How _is_ Lady Novarra doing?” 

Kylo’s heated gaze snapped to his mother. Who was Lady Novarra and why was he so annoyed even at the mere mention of her name? 

“Well enough, I suppose.” His tone was clipped, and there was a whisper of warning in his words. 

“I suspect she was doing a bit better before she heard the joyous news of your impending nuptials,” Leia stood, her lovely modest gown bringing out the green tones of her warm hazel eyes. “Will you be joining us for dinner?” The change of topic is deft and casual, and, from the muscle currently ticking in Kylo’s jaw, not a moment too soon. 

“We will be dining privately tonight. You will have time to meet the staff and dignitaries later,” his tone is much softer as he addresses you, a large palm tenderly cupping your cheek. You have to fight to not lean your face into the innocent, tender touch. You are still quite over stimulated and in need of more sleep. Even if Valeria was a rancor pit in truth, you feel that you are at least be safe enough to sleep long and hard for tonight. 

Provided the man currently undressing you with his eyes didn’t have any other ideas. 

It was a discussion that would have to happen, and soon. There really is no sense in putting it off. If all else failed, didn’t headaches get you out of it? You nearly laugh aloud at the notion; you know Ben would never do something so atrocious as to pressure you, but Kylo...well, Ben and Kylo were night and day. You still saw enough of Ben in him to not immediately run screaming, but you are not about to drop your guard anytime soon. Or ever. 

People like you just weren’t programmed to trust. 

Leia rounds the table and clasps your hands in hers. Her skin is soft and this close you can smell the delicate and understated scent of her earthy perfume. “Well then, I suppose I should go find my fool husband. Do have a lovely dinner and get some rest dear - and give what we discussed some thought.” 

A male rumble of disapproval sounds from Kylo’s chest and you bite back a smile at his expense. 

“I will. Thank you, for everything. Enjoy your meal.” You give her hands a light squeeze and she repeats the motion, and after a brief pat on Kylo’s arm, departs. 

Kylo watches his mother's retreating back for a few moments before his arm reflexively tightens around you, and he leads the way toward the main hall. 

"So," you awkwardly fish for conversation, "how was your, uh, meeting or whatever?" 

His lips curl at your hesitant attempt - a good sign. The hard set of his shoulders relaxes ever so slightly. "It was trying but necessary." 

You have to hold back a snort. "Stars, do you ever shut up? I can hardly get a word in edgewise." Your heart does an odd little _thud_ when that curl of his full lips turns awfully close to a full smile. If Kylo Ren/Ben Solo ever fully, **truly** smiled at you, you are pretty sure your heart would simply explode. Along with your ovaries. 

Internal shake. 

“Did you enjoy your time with my mother?” He asks, ever so casually. He seems a little too interested in your answer. Golden eyes occasionally sweep over your face, his arm remaining around your waist in a proprietary display. The main courtyard is swarming with people, but they give you a wide berth. More than one of these finely dressed men and women, silver guards included, are giving you a critical eye. He senses your discomfort. “Do not let these fools get to you, lamb.” He whispers at your ear. “You are above them; they know that already. You need to know it too.” 

You look up at him sharply, surprise clear. _What?_ You don’t consider yourself better than anyone - you didn’t consider anyone better than you, either. Class is a foreign concept and an archaic, pointless one at that. You decide in that moment to wait until you are behind closed doors to make this clear to him; Leia’s warning about contradicting him in front of others is still fresh in your mind. 

His influence is made clear when, upon passing the group of people lining up to enter the main hall, every single man crosses his arm over his chest and lowers his head - and every single woman drops low into a sweeping and elegant curtsy. 

There is a private entrance to the far left of the palace to the Royal Suite. This, naturally, was also the most heavily guarded. There were turret towers, sentry droids, and heavily armed and armored silver soldiers that wore scarlet capes, with fancier armor. You assume them to be a more elite guard. 

You pass without incident into the bio-locked passage. “Your prints will be added to the biolock after some things are settled between us.” 

_After I more or less force you into marriage,_ he might as well have said. 

The corridor is the same dark stone as the rest of the palace but it lead to another large door. This one is made of actual solid wood, a rarity. It is polished and gleaming in tones of dark ebony. The wrought gold handles and accents catc the dim glow of the hololights - as do Kylo’s amber eyes. 

h Kylo turns the handle; where his thumb is lights up as the lock disengages. This door is antique natural beauty blended with high grade technology! This excites you; if the Royal Wing is even only half as beautiful as the valley and gardens, you are certain to die of sheer appreciation. 

Gleaming wooden floors are the first thing that catches your eye. Dark ebony wood, like the door. The walls are smooth grey stone, though panelled in places with holo screens. A fireplace dominates one wall, and a circular black couch curves along another. The space is open and neutral and utterly luxurious, but ultimately it feels empty. Echoing. As if something was missing. This only makes it more suiting that it vibrates with Kylo’s essence. 

“This is the main sitting area; we will receive the occasional guests or high ranking dignitary here. As you can see it is very separate from the actual suite.” A gloved hand gestured towards yet another dark wooden door. “These doors are made from venerwood; it was nearly extinct a few years ago. It is stronger than durasteel and flame resistant. Interestingly enough, it conducts electricity rather well, so it was a simple matter to have the engineers combine it’s natural strengths with the biolocks and security measures.” 

The next corridor is made of grey marble. Portraits and tapestries line the walls - a long double row of what you can only assume are priceless artifacts displayed. A red, finely threaded runner spans the length of the spacious hall. 

The corridor opens into a large square - immediately to your front is a grand arched entrance into a ridiculously spacious kitchen you had every intention of investigating fully later. To your left is a descent down about six steps into a more intimate and slightly smaller sitting room. There is a fireplace here as well, but like the hall it is littered with what appears to be various historical artifacts; what really catches your eye is the occasional painting. They are of varying landscapes, but one depicting a meadow stands out. The fact that it features a woman with flowers in her hair, her back to the painter, strikes home a bit. Through this living area, a durasteel door leads into spaces unknown. 

To your right is another locked door, this one made out of what appears to be dark durasteel, but it has an unusual sheen to it. 

“I will show you to your rooms after dinner.” He guides you away from the dark metal door and into an offshoot corner of the sitting area. It is a small raised semi-formal sitting area with a wonderful view of the valley. At this height and facing this direction, the morning sunshine would hit this little nook like a spotlight. 

The table is of dark red wood and you can see your awed reflection in it. The polished enamel surface should look cheap, but it smacks of distinguished wealth. You are still in shock, even a full day cycle after being snatched from Korian, but the absurdity of being in such clean and moneyed surroundings immediately sets you on edge. What if you break something? Sullied the delicately embroidered cushion of a high backed chair that cost more than your entire home planet? 

Kylo takes the option out of sitting by pulling your seat back for you expectantly. You perch on the very edge of the chair, shooting him a shy smile from across the table as he takes his own seat. 

“Dinner shall be arriving shortly,” he leans over to fill your glass with a dark red liquid - wine, perhaps? You’ve never imbibed alcohol before. If he notices your second thoughts about the choice of refreshment he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he pours himself a glass and takes a long, bracing drink. “We need to talk.” 

“I agree.” 

You have the feeling that this will be a long dinner...


	8. VII: Red Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner for two, and a deal is struck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late update my loves! This one is extra extra long to make up for it and if I am right - which I hope I am because I did promise you lovelies a ton of smut! - we will be getting to the good stuff next chapter! Woohoo! 
> 
> Due to the smuttarific nature of it, hopefully it will be out sooner than this plot/progress heavy chapter. <3 I hope you enjoy!

The silence that follows your agreement is thick like Kalvassion molasses - a bitter adhesive that clings to the air between you. It isn’t very long before you grow uncomfortable with the weight of things unsaid; they linger in the air like vultures circling a dying thing.

A service droid whirrs in and places a banquet before you; succulent slow-roasted meats and mashed steamed vegetables that smelled divine. There is an array of various colorful sauces, and a basket of steaming fresh bread that was at risk of making your mouth water. 

Kylo, ever the gentleman, pulls out your chair and waits for you to start eating before picking up his own fork. “My family has always been strong with the Force. It runs in the blood. It is inescapable; there is no denying it, no hiding from it. When my sensitivity became clear at the age of three I was sent to train with my Uncle, as were a group of other children. We had a unique connection to the world around us, but that is all we were - children.” 

You decide immediately that you don't like where this is going. 

“The training temple seemed so much larger than it really was. Cold and endless stone corridors. A green and rocky landscape that spanned for miles until it was cut off by the sea. My Uncle’s regimen was unforgiving; I wasn't the only who chafed under the yoke, though I was the only one who dared question the great Luke Skywalker.” 

You nearly gasped with recognition - you didn’t have all the details but even you, a nobody on Korian, had heard tales of one of the greatest Jedi to ever fight on the side of Light. 

He raised his wine glass to his full lips for a deep drink - liquid courage maybe? You knew this was likely hard for him. All those years in the meadow, countless hours of sunny days and warm opportunity...yet you knew almost nothing about him. 

Then again, you didn't tell him much about yourself either during that distant, perfect time. Shame was what kept you from telling him the truth. Or what you perceived it to be at the time. You did not believe in the idea that some beings are superior to others by design or birth. Still, in your darkest hours, you must overcome that nigh crippling feeling of not being good enough to be this dark eyed boys friend... _even when he had desperately needed one._

At least that had not changed. For all the power and prestige he now possessed, along with a certain undeniable conviction and sure air, Kylo Ren still very much needs a friend. You can practically smell the loneliness emanating from him. It is something you are intimately acquainted with, after all. 

The only thing you hate more than a liar is a hypocrite, so you renew your earnest attention. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't always been curious. It takes him longer than you’d like to continue, and you’re practically tapping your foot by the time he resumes. 

“I was subpar at best in the beginning. It’s bizarre to me to think that there was a time when I would hesitate to strike out at an opponent. Skywalker grew frustrated with me easily enough. He pushed me harder than the rest. I suppose he couldn't stand the thought of his own flesh and blood being a lesser Jedi than some nameless child from nowhere of import. It wasn’t until after I had almost killed four of the students I had been facing at once in a sparring session that he began to really treat me differently.” Another leisure, long draw of the blood red wine. “He went from berating me openly to fearing me, almost overnight. I was five years old and couldn't even get into a proper battle stance, and yet this great Jedi Master was afraid of what he saw in me.” His eyes lock with yours across the table. Your food lies momentarily forgotten. “It became worse, after we met. I think back on that time and I am almost positive that the outbursts of force were signs, where my energy seeking out yours. These kinds of bonds can only happen if at least one of the pair is strong enough in the Force to withstand the mental strain. Those meetings took a toll on me, but I paid the price because you were the piece that was missing.” 

_Heart thud._

He needs to stop doing that, or you need to get a grip. Probably both. He is a dangerous man, and you sense he has done terrible things to rise to power in such a precise time. Not to mention the nervous way his underlings skitter about in his presence, the fear behind the awe and respect in the eyes of the nobles you passed on your way here...and the colorful banter between him and Hux about what Kylo would do with the Admiral’s entrails. 

Despite all the darkness and danger, though, you still see flickers of that boy in the meadow. He still sits with his back entirely too straight, his movements unhurried and almost thoughtful. The crooked, almost-but-not-quite smile is the same, though it weighs heavier than ever with the corpses of all the things he’d never gotten around to saying or couldn’t bring himself to admit. 

“I don’t know how to respond to that,” you finally fill the expectant silence welling up between you. Your fork automatically stuffs some sweet corn into your mouth, as if you are afraid of saying more. You are - you have a tendency to ramble when you are nervous or afraid; you want to stay on even ground with him. You can’t do that if you’re spilling your guts - like you did on the airship last night. 

“I understand. I’m not expecting you to know how you feel about it anytime soon, but I do want to give you what you will need to make an informed decision.” 

You wave him on, risking a sip of the wine to not seem rude. It is sweet and bitter all at once. You’re not quite sure how you feel about it but it isn’t dreadful so you take another. Better this time, warming you all the way down to your toes. Like someone had dipped a strawberry in whipped cream, dipped that in cinnamon, and then set it on fire.... _interesting._

He seems to take a moment to collect himself. 

“The temple was my home until I left with another teacher. Many believe that was a mistake - and perhaps it was. Regardless, I was able to get what I needed from him. When I surpassed him the Galaxy was in great turmoil. The Jedi Order was a blight, and so were the Sith. Even with what little of either faction remained, they were still managing to tear worlds apart. The Republic was weak, and so it fell. The First Order was a step in the right direction, but it was lead by a madman who chased only personal power at the expense of everything else. I eventually came to realize that my destiny wasn’t to lead the First Order and bring victory to the Sith, to chase the almost glory of my Grandfather. My destiny was to kill those things; the Jedi, the Sith, the First Order, the Rebel Alliance. All of it. My destiny was to start anew from the ashes and build something that will last - an Empire.” 

“You realize I don’t understand anything you’re saying, right?” Sith, Jedi, The First Order. These are distant whispers and fairy tales to you. The politics and history are almost entirely lost on you. 

He nods slowly, that almost-smile curving his mouth a bit at the right corner. “I know. But you don’t really need to - you just need to know that my methods might seem extreme, but I have the best interests in mind for the Galaxy that I oversee. There are others that will try to say otherwise; there are those that believe I am still aligned with the Sith and that I am simply a placeholder for the real Emperor. I need you to disregard those who will try to sway you from me. This is where you belong, and I need you to trust me on this.” 

Again, unsure of how to even _begin_ to respond to any of this, you nod. “I’ll try.” It was all you really can do. 

He sighs, broad shoulders losing some of their palpable tension. “I suppose that is all I can truly ask of you.” 

“So, uh, is marriage really necessary?” 

His expression darkens. 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

His barrel chest heaves out a breath, and he seems to be grappling for patience. “It is necessary - I wish I could give you more time to adjust, but I cannot. There are background machinations that are constantly a risk to not only my rule but your safety - marrying me will nullify the worst of them, and when our first child is born - “ 

“Excuse the kriff out of me, but _what_?!” 

He winces. 

“I meant to ease into that.” 

“Yeah, just like you mean to ease into _this?_ ” You wave a hand over your general person, alarm bells still blaring in your head. 

He wheezes out an odd sort of chuckle around the rim of his wine glass. “Well, you’re joking about it. Does that mean you’re less furious than I initially thought?” 

“Oh, no, I’m absolutely livid. I can turn just about anything into a joke. My sense of humor is probably why I haven’t just shrivelled up and died.” You are fully wary again, and it shows. Spawning is certainly not on your top ten to do. Sure, you like kids - love them, even. You are good with them. But there was a time and a place to become pregnant and this was not it. 

His almost-grin disappears. 

“I’m glad you didn’t,” there is something lurking about in that statement that sounds a lot like, _otherwise I’d have done something stupid and overly dramatic._ “But let me try to do some damage control. I understand that pregnancy is not something that is always desired, nor a possibility. However, just as being wed to me is necessary for your protection, so is an heir to protect the union as a whole. Only with a strong Empress at my side and an heir will the Galaxy be appeased. As much as I personally want these things, what remains of the Galactic Senate will only stand down, along with what allies they’re whispering to in the Outer Rim, if I uphold the long ago abandoned traditions of the Empire.” 

He pauses and you follow suit when he raises his glass to his lips again. You have nearly finished your entire cup at this point and are feeling rather warm and fuzzy. He offers you a refill and you accept. “I’ve never drank before.” You admit casually, testing his reaction. You’re somewhat surprised when he stops filling halfway to the rim. “My apologies - we will want to stop there then. If you’re not used to it, this wine is more than enough to make you wake with a pounding headache. Assuming you don’t have the constitution of a guppy, though, you should be fine with the amount you’ve had. After all, we don’t want you thinking I’m trying to get you drunk for nefarious purposes, do we?” And the almost-smile is back. You’d missed it, and you hate that you missed it. 

“I’m not who you think I am,” the words are out before you can stop them. Aided by a mix of alcohol and a swarm of feeling, you just let it out. “I’m not cut out for this. I cared about you - and I think some part of me still does. But you changed - and I did too. I’m not the girl I used to be either. I guess that’s okay - but even if I hadn’t changed I definitely still wouldn’t be Empress material. Last night was the first time I’d worn _shoes._ ” 

Instead of immediately disputing this, he waves you on. “I’ve told you a bit more about what changed with me. Perhaps it is time you share more about yourself?” 

You nod eagerly, hating the little stubborn bloom of hope that raises in your chest. You have the fleeting notion that if you tell him everything he will send you away from him in disgust - but that’s not the real reason you want to tell him. Some far more sensible part of you, underneath all that panicked confusion and pique, genuinely wants to finally just...tell the truth. 

“You saw Korian. You saw me when you took me. I was born there; my parents died when I was five, just before we met for the first time. I don’t remember much - I guess people took pity on me at first, and that was enough to get by until I was able to find work. I was small for my age. A few pilots and smugglers gave me some credits or food to squeeze into places they couldn’t fit. After nearly being crushed to death a few times though, I moved on from that. I’ve scavenged, stolen when I needed to. But I ended up making a living as a laundress.” You gulp the wine greedily - liquid courage, indeed. 

“How did your parents die?” His question is soft, caressing over you like a warm hug. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“I understand. We will tell eachother everything in time.” 

You snort in disbelief. “Back to that having your child thing.” 

“It is not something that needs to happen immediately. I am not without compassion, lamb. It is true I am short on it, but what little I have is reserved mainly for you. I am doing the best I can with what I have. I will push everything back as long as I possibly can, to give you time to get used to everything.” He gets a calculating look in his eye and you have to check the urge to run for the door. “The wedding must happen regardless, but I can have a medical droid discreetly insert a contraceptive chip into your arm. They’re nigh undetectable unless you’re looking for them, and it will ensure -” 

“So you’re just assuming you will have sex with me?” 

You never thought you would see this much larger, darker version of Ben Solo _blush._ The tips of his ears reddened, and a little patch of pink flesh works across his nose. “I apologize, but consummation is necessary, otherwise the marriage is null.” 

“And what? They’ll be checking?” You laugh into your glass, and nearly choke on the healthy gulp you take because his blush only deepens and he looks markedly uncomfortable. “Oh my Stars, _will_ they check!?” 

Kylo Ren, Emperor of the Galaxy, one of the most powerful warriors known, tugs at his collar like a nervous schoolboy and swallows thickly. “I had been hoping to break that to you a little more gently, but I have forgotten how sharp you are.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, I will be reminding you. Now, explain, before I knock you over the head with this unreasonably large roasted bird.” 

His chuckle is warm and rumbles across the table. You feel it in your toes. You’ve never heard him laugh fully, just as you’d never seen him smile fully. Again, Stars help you if he ever does in your presence. There was no denying that there was still an electric attraction sparking between you. It had been there since day one in the meadow, though before you had reached a certain age it had been purely innocent and based on a nameless, colorless connection you both felt. Now it is named ‘barely contained ideations of things you had both wanted to do for too many years,’ and it is a burning **red.**

He is more than just handsome, if you are being truthful. His various beauty marks are still there, adding character to his sharp and inquisitive features. His hair is long, brushing his collar in silky waves, dark as pitch. His mouth keeps capturing your attention; try as you might to focus on the sharp height of his cheekbones or the pleasing cut of his square jaw, your eyes always settle back on his mouth. 

He notices. 

Male satisfaction ripples across the tentative and tattered bond you share. 

You are less than subtle about it. “Shut up.” Another forkful of succulent meat; the last, in fact. You had cleared your plate, more or less shamelessly stuffing your face while you conversed. 

He takes his time in replying; tension ripples through him, as if he is defusing a detonator as opposed to having a simple conversation. Another area that overlaps with you two. Neither of you are great conversationalists, though he has the better charisma. 

“After the wedding, there will be a honeymoon. After, a respected member of what remains of the Senate will need to verify that you are no longer a virgin.” 

“What if I’m not a virgin to begin with?” 

The table rattles warningly - as do the pictures on the wall and the nearby large window. A scant second later, he seems to gain control. “Then I have a very unfortunate man to kill.” His words are slow and even, belying the vein throbbing on the right side of his forehead. 

_Okay...._ You roll your eyes. “So the success of your plan rests on me being a virgin in the first place? That’s really presumptuous, even for you. What, did you expect me to wait for you even though I never gave any indication that I had any of those kinds of feelings for you?” That is a half-truth; you’d suspected you’d been in love with him for years, but he was little more than a ghost for over a decade. Loving a ghost was ultimately irrational. Wasn’t it? 

“I had hoped you would. I didn’t expect you to, but I had hoped.” 

“Oh.” You are still justified in the anger ebbing through your veins, but his words cool it a fraction. You’re not quite sure what to say in the moments of tense silence that follow. The service droid whirring in to clear away the remnants of your meal and serve dessert is a welcome distraction to give you a moment to collect your thoughts. 

“I have a proposition for you, lamb.” He refills his own glass again, showing no signs of the wine affecting him. “Give me thirty days. One standard month to show you all that I can offer, to show you that you do belong here - with me. If after those thirty days, you do not feel the same....we will find some other arrangement that will satisfy you as well as take your safety into account.” He drinks deeply, his eyes burning like embers - you get the feeling that there is a trap tensing to spring. “There is only one caveat; you must open yourself to me and genuinely attempt to enjoy your time here. You must embrace being an Empress, and being by my side. Of course, my offer of contraception still stands. However, the marriage and the consummation of said marriage are still nonnegotiable. I can, however, push the wedding back up to three standard days time - but that is all I can do.” 

You still have the bone-deep sense that he is luring you into a chasm that you will not be able to escape - at least not on your own - but you nod. “Agreed,” it is your turn to smile now, as you dig into a decadent chocolate dessert. “But I have some conditions of my own. You have to be open with me too; if I ask you a direct question, you have to answer fully. Tell me what’s on your mind, what you’re feeling. In full, complete sentences.” You have to press your lips together in order to avoid giggling at his perplexed expression. “And it doesn’t hurt to, oh, lead with the big news and not spring it on me last minute. I want to be kept up to date on what is happening; especially if it involves me. The first time I become aware of you keeping secrets or hedging, the deal is off and I’m out.” 

He nods solemnly. “I agree to these terms.” 

The rest of your meal goes smoothly in only slightly awkward silence. 

He stands when the droid obediently zooms in to clear the table for the last time. A large hand reaches across the space between you. 

“Come, I want to show you something.”


	9. VIII: Kingdom Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo takes advantage of your deal right out the gate and leaves you in a tailspin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, my loves, the good stuff is here! I am so, so sorry for the long wait - please consider this extra long and smutty chapter a consolation present for the horribly long wait. Also late Christmas! I will be writing regularly again; I had a bit of a situation in my personal life that required my attention for some time - and of course the holidays are always a mad house for everyone. But alas, I am back! Have no fear! I thoroughly enjoy writing this story and I hope you lot still enjoy reading it. Please be advised I will be going over my previous chapters and doing some light edits, and fixing some minor errors I found. So if you notice any slight changes, that's why! I have more plans in the works for this little labor of love and I can't wait to share them with you! I cannot at this time commit to a specific writing schedule but know that I will do everything in my power to update as quickly as humanly possible. I can, however, tell you that I estimate a total of 50 chapters in this story! Again, I hope you enjoy - keep an eye out for more updates!

There is an expectant hum in the air, as his open hand extends towards you. There had been a time not _too_ long ago when you would not have hesitated a mere instant to take it. You look at his hand as if it is a foreign thing. In truth, it is new to you. The hand you remember is smaller and bears less scars and calluses. Is there not a single part of him that isn’t damaged in some way?

It is an unkind thought, and shame creeps up the back of your neck in its wake. 

It happens unconsciously, your hand reaching toward his as a sort of muscle memory. His hand is warm and rough against the skin of your palm. His fingers close around yours firmly but gently, and when you step around the table and down the two steps leading back into the main room, you get the sense of crossing some invisible threshold into unknown territory. 

He leads you through that dark durasteel door and into a cool, distant corridor. A master suite is located here; several of the walls, like in the lobby-esque first area, consist of holo-panels. A large glass window made of black crystal spans across the entire far wall. The floor panels are black, with silver swirls inside. You are entranced by the way the flames roaring in the cavernous fireplace make the patterns dance. 

“Stardust,” he says by way of explanation after he notices your prolonged stare. 

“Whoa, wait - I’m literally walking on actual stars right now?” 

He nods, his almost-smile playing at the corner of his mouth again. “They’re long dead, but yes.” 

“How could you possibly afford this, on top of everything else?” 

He makes a rough sound, somewhere between a chuckle and a growl. “Power comes with it’s perks; something I fully intend to utilize during our little deal. Fair warning, lamb.” 

You affect a mein of false surprise. “ _No,_ I totally expected you to play fair!” 

His answering chuckle trails behind him as he moves to the mantle above the fireplace. A crystal decanter is there upon a silver tray - red liquid glimmers within, catching the firelight. More wine? 

“What was it you wanted to show me?” 

“Our quarters.” 

“I thought you said I had my own rooms?” 

“You do,” he poured himself a generous cup, placing the decanter back when you declined another, “but that does not change the fact that these rooms are _ours._ ” A long drink later, he adds, “The bedroom is said to be the foundation of a marriage. Perhaps I want to get an early start?” 

You cover your surprise and slight panic by being blithe. 

“I’m pretty sure trust is the foundation of a marriage.” In reality your head was spinning and your mouth was dry - not out of fear or disgust at the idea, necessarily. What was alarming was that you _didn’t_ find the idea of sex with this man utterly repulsive. You had your reasons to be cautious, and good ones, but you knew deep in your bones that his words were true when he said he’d never hurt you. At least, not intentionally. There was still a lot of damage he could do by accident though, and he had made it clear that he was willing to hurt others in order to coerce your cooperation. Part of you could understand why he had lashed out at the boy on Korian - but a far larger part of you was still wary and angry. He was so casually choking the life out of that young man, as if he’d done it a hundred times before. Violence seemed to be his first method of problem solving, tried and true. How many people had he hurt to get to where he stood now? How many _innocent_ people? 

_” I will kill every single gutter rat standing between you and me.”_

__As if he could sense the direction your thoughts were heading - and likely, despite your thick mental shields, he could - he finished off his glass and spoke casually. “I can understand your reluctance, but you did give your word to explore all I had to offer.”_ _

___Oh, you sly son of a Bantha._ _ _

__“I’m not ready for -”_ _

__“I didn’t necessarily mean sex. That is reserved for the honeymoon.” He sighs deeply, a large hand running through his thick raven hair. “I want to prove that I can take care of you in all ways - “ He stops himself short, seeming to decide on something. “Will you come here, lamb? I think it’s best if I show instead of tell.” He extends his hand once more, and despite a flutter of warning in your lower belly, you reach out your own in turn._ _

__As soon as your fingertips contact his, a warm buzz of electricity shoots up your arm and explodes behind your eyes. Color, warmth, _feeling._ It takes you a moment to realize, as you stare dumbly up at him, that he is broadcasting his emotions - at least the surface ones that he feels in that moment. _ _

__There is the deep red of passion and sexual desire thrumming in the background. It is an odd sensation but you feel as if there are little invisible labels upon the offers he places before you. Orange is for your strong personality and the way you make him laugh, blue is for the way you make him feel connected, yellow is for the way the sunlight catches in your hair and makes his heart skip a beat. Lavender is for your beauty and the way it pulls at him. Violet is for the strength of your spirit and wisdom. All these combinations of colors and feelings and light collide into a kaleidoscope, swirling and swirling until - a blinding gold strikes through your center like a lightning bolt._ _

__Devotion. Passion. Possession. _Love._ It is pure in it’s own way, but there are dark spots in the light. Dark blemishes bleed through the colors - blemishes that he could not hide even if he tried. There is a gnawing hunger there, a dangerous beast lurking that would quickly turn rabid if denied. _ _

__The message comes through loud and clear._ _

__Ben Solo, even as Kylo Ren, is deeply in love with you. It is not a perfect nor a necessarily _stable _love, but it is love all the same. Your mind rejects this, even as your heart soars. You are not the girl you once were. How could he possibly still feel this way? The proof is right there, sizzling inside the current flowing between you. The idea that he is manipulating what you see does cross your mind but the strength of this connection, the sheer force behind it makes you dismiss the notion altogether.___ _

___You are left breathless and relieved when he finally disengages. The silence spans between you for interminable moments as you attempt to process what transpired._ _ _

___“Do you see now?” The heat in his eyes - which you now recognize as barely restrained carnal desire - threatens to melt your very bones._ _ _

___You struggle to eek out a response. “Yes.”_ _ _

___You are not afraid, and you can’t fathom why. The darkness in him, this unfamiliar place - all of the sudden change and the way you were captured should not allow your resolve to waver in the face of him, of _this._ It does, though, and that infuriates you - even as it excites you. _ _ _

__He closes in then, his heat and presence filling up your senses and you don’t fight it. You’re tired of fighting, honestly. There is no malice in his action as he tenderly cups the right side of your face with his too large hand, so you allow it. It’s the slow descent of his glossy dark head as he leans his towering from down to press his plush mouth against yours that makes you have to check the urge to bolt. That old familiar instinct to run from all things unfamiliar sings so sharply through you for a scarce moment that you tense and mentally prepare to swivel on your heel, back towards the suite door._ _

__He tenses along with you but the impressive muscles in his back and shoulders loosen again as he runs the opposite hand down your bare arm, in a soothing motion. His mouth is still on yours for a few heartbeats - the moment of indecision and confusion is fleeting and then it is gone entirely. Your mouth moves on his mindlessly and he responds with something akin to a growl of approval as his arms wind around you and press you against him._ _

__The moment is nearly shattered when he effortlessly lifts you against him, his hands brazenly cupping your bottom. A savage thrill sizzles through your lower half when you feel the obvious bulge press directly to your most intimate place. Your legs tighten around his waist reflexively, and he groans into your mouth at the increased pressure._ _

__Time slows in only the way that your fleeting girlhood daydreams of romance allowed. His mouth is hot and firm and insistent on yours. It acts as a magnet and pulls forth all that yearning and tenderness that you’d attempted to bury for him. It breaks the surface, making you gasp with surprise and want. _Need._ That same need thrums through him and you are fearful of the force of it, but even so you know there is no stopping it. You don’t _want_ to stop, not really. It is a moment of weakness perhaps, but after all these hours of confusion, anger, regret, and a lifetime of loneliness - you need this more than you need air. _ _

__One large, callused hand worked its way into the top of your dress. It’s descent is slow and purposeful as his fingertips glide across your flesh, creating friction sensation until nearly your entire left breast is encased by his palm. Tender, plump flesh spills over the sides of his firm fingers as he begins a sinfully slow massage. His thumb finds your hard nipple and tweaks it, rolling and pressing on it until you feel your inner muscles clench with steady and thrumming bursts of wanton arousal._ _

__You don’t realize how close he’d brought you to the enormous bed until you feel your back sinking into black silk sheets. He doesn’t break the kiss or stop his gentle, maddening groping - he just follows you down. His body is a cage around you and only a small part of you feels trapped by it. The majority of your mind - and all of your sensitized flesh - arches for more contact. How long had you dreamt of this exact moment? It feels like you had waited eons to experience these feelings; tremors in the energy between you suggests that he might feel the same. His hands are shaking as they move to cup your face. He holds you as if you are made of glass and something about this unexpected gentleness just makes you kiss him harder._ _

__“I can stop, if you want me to.” He whispers this, low and hesitant, into the bend of your neck - even as he nibbles the skin there. The muscles of his back are rock solid under your fingers and he thrums with tension, his tightly leashed control one moment from slipping. You recognize that despite his own innate selfishness, despite his own high-handedness, he is in his own way trying to give you one last escape route._ _

__“If you stop I might very well murder you on the spot.”_ _

__“Just what I was hoping to hear, lamb. But you should know, I won’t make this offer again. If you truly don’t want this, now is the time. I don’t think I can stop myself if we get any further. I’m determined to see you come undone; with my tongue, my fingers, all of it. I have every intention of eating you alive, pet.”_ _

__Your intelligent response?_ _

__“Um, okay.”_ _

__Ah, the breathless hussy was back._ _

__You feel him smile into the crook of your shoulder, right before he nips that exact spot. You gasp, and ever the opportunist, he slips two fingers between your lips._ _

__“Suck, lamb. Get them nice and wet for me.”_ _

__Mindlessly, you begin to suckle as commanded. His flesh is warm and something about this act makes heat flood through you - it is lewd, and exciting. It takes you longer than it should to realize the true purpose of him doing this, but it hits home when he pops his fingers free from your mouth and moves them down your belly._ _

__You would have been embarrassed about the needy whimper that broke from you had you not been so damn _needy._ He chuckles low in his chest, warm lips kissing your temple with affection. _ _

__“Don’t worry lamb, if you’re good I will give you something else to suck before the night’s over.”_ _

___He didn’t mean....did he?_ _ _

__You are not quite a blushing innocent but you are definitely under-experienced when it came to sexual matters so the concept of taking him into your mouth in that manner both titillates and terrifies you in equal measure._ _

__You watch his hand descend to your bared thighs. He moves around you to prop your head up with one of his arms, while the other moves over you in languid circles, teasing the flesh of your milky thighs with the callused pads of his fingers._ _

__“I wonder how wet you are right now.” He casually murmurs, as if making a statement about the weather. Your heart thuds in your rib cage as a response, your brain gone lust stupid passed the point of return. If you had your wits about you, you would very much resent the fact that he had this much power over you. If you didn’t know better you might think he was exerting some form of force ability over you. But you did - know better that is. You’d been fantasizing about him without clothes since you were fourteen._ _

__“Oh, is that so, pet?”_ _

__He sounds amused, on the verge of outright laughter, even. “Did you know that your mental barriers have been wavering since we first kissed? Interesting. I will have to make a note of that - if I ever want you to be open with me, all I have to do is get you in bed. Then, you can hide nothing. I’d much prefer you tell me openly, but of course, that will take time. In the meanwhile, I fully anticipate taking advantage of this delicious little chink in your armor.”_ _

___”Nerfherder!”_ you hissed at him without any real heat. _ _

__“Now, now, name-calling is simply juvenile.” He tsks you, and in retaliation, gives your right nipple a sharp pinch. You gasp, the tender little bud throbbing in a not-entirely painful way. The heat that floods your poor flesh after he releases it is...intoxicating. You continue to watch with baited breath as his fingers lazily circle your thighs until finally, they slip beneath the hem of your dress. Your panties are thin and damp - he releases a low growl in your ear when his fingers press against the wet silk._ _

__He nudges them with the point of two fingers, gently running those explorative digits up and down - up and down - up and down again, in a maddeningly even tempo. Your whimper is caught by your teeth, and your toes curl within the confines of your shoes._ _

__“I bet I can make you come by just doing this, lamb.” He sounds enthralled, his breathing picking up a little. Over the rucked up hem of your thin garments you see your panty-clad lower half exposed. Your legs are spread apart and your panties have a tell-tale dark spot. He rubs along that spot, pausing to draw two or three circles directly over your throbbing clit, before continuing all over again._ _

___Tease!_ _ _

__“Please, I need more.”_ _

__“Don’t worry. I will give you more. I will always give you more...” You don’t like the way he paused, to smile down at you. “Eventually.”_ _

__Long, long minutes passed. The gentle circles continue at the same maddening pace, but at one point he throws in occasional sporadic tugs and pinches at your right nipple for added stimulation. He seems fascinated by the way your body reacts and tenses; your nipples are hard little pebbles - as is your clit. The languid heat in your core grows hotter and hotter. You feel like you are right by the edge but you can’t quite reach it..._ _

__Because he is ~~teasing~~ torturing you. _ _

__“Kylo - please!”_ _

__“Hmm, pet? What do you need?”_ _

__The first trickles of intuition fire in your lust glazed mind, and you narrow your eyes at him._ _

__“You know what I need. I need you to finish what you started...why are you torturing me?”_ _

__“Torture, is it? I’ll admit, it wasn’t quite what I was going for but trust me when I say that anticipation always builds the pleasure exponentially. I’m not doing this to punish you or to cause you distress. I fully intend to deliver, but I want you to enjoy this. To take time to learn what you like, and to not rush. I have no malicious intent - though I do greatly enjoy watching you squirm, lamb.”_ _

__He kisses your lips gently, as if in apology._ _

__The maddening ministrations continue until, like a prayer being answered, you feel him nudge your nigh sodden panties to the side and tenderly probe those searching fingers inside you._ _

__“Yes!” You gasp and arch, feeling him groan low in his chest at your heat and tightness. The stretch is slightly uncomfortable but you’re able to ignore it due to the rampant desire stampeding through you - his plan all along, perhaps? You clench around him, already preparing for a heady, lengthy, pulse-pounding orgasm. He strokes in gently at first, curling his fingers in a come-hither motion. The pressure increases at certain mind-numbing spots, making your breath hitch and your eyes nearly roll back into your head. All the while, his other arm cradles you and holds you steady while plucking and teasing at your nipple. He leans over you, nibbling your jaw, peppering your face with kisses. He whispers things to you, things you vaguely register as encouraging endearments._ _

__“Almost there, lamb. Just hold out a bit longer for me.”_ _

__Your only answer is a long, plaintive moan. Your legs shake and spasm with unspent desire. Your nerve ending spark like livewires. Sweat beads on your skin and the tension low in your belly coils tighter - you are nearly afraid of the strength of the orgasm that builds within you. You no longer have the presence of mind to cry out or to beg him to end the torment - you are reduced to only being able to _feel._ _ _

__His sneaky thumb rises up to massage your throbbing, tender clit in fast, hard circles - and that is the end of the line._ _

__“Come for me, lamb. _Now._ ” _ _

__Do you really have any choice?_ _

__No amount of willpower, hatred, or Force affinity could have kept you from obeying that particular command in that particular moment. All that tension, all that stress, all that **feeling** comes undone in one long, hot, wet rush of ecstasy. You buck your hips, nigh screaming your pleasure into his broad shoulder. He obligingly keeps his fingers pumping, keeps his thumb stroking, until he manages to wring the last few shudders of pleasure from you. _ _

__When he finally stills, you lie there boneless and spent, all the energy and tension fleeing your body in a rush. He gathers you tighter into his arms, dropping his lips to the top of your head in thoughtless affection that is proving to be an easy habit. He holds you and strokes your back as if you are a talisman against other less pleasant thoughts. Perhaps for him, you are. There is more to it though, he’d said so himself. You, in his eyes, are his very future. The future of the Galaxy too, possibly._ _

__But what was he to you?_ _


	10. VIIII: Revenants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malevolence follows your time with Ben and leaves you reeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another update for you lovelies, hope you like it! And this is where it officially starts getting good, loves! We're going to meet Minerva finally next chapter, and see more Hux and Leia! Maybe we will even learn more about the alluded to Lady Novarra....

There is not much time to contemplate before his mouth captures yours in a fierce, deep kiss.

“You did so well, lamb.” He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck with affection, continuing to dot kisses along your assailable flesh. The occasional nip and suck makes you gasp with renewed wanting. His hand returns to your chest almost thoughtlessly and begins working and tweaking the opposite breast from before. “I hope you are not naive enough to think we are finished. I have quite a bit more stamina than that.” His deep chuckle of amusement reverberates into the flesh of one breast after he kisses his way down. 

The lash of his tongue on your vulnerable nipple makes you whimper sharply and arch in surprise. The sensation is new, thrilling, and altogether _delicious._ An assault of kisses encourages the flesh there to tingle with awareness. Goosebumps erupt in the wake of his hot, hungry mouth and leave you panting. His lips latch onto the tender bud there without warning. You move to twist away on instinct, your hands all but plunging into his thick hair - you are not sure whether you intend to push him away or to hold him to you. The latter wins out, however, when he begins to suck. Sharp jolts of pleasure follow every movement of his tongue. It is almost like your breasts are directly linked to the wet and wanting space between your legs. Every spark of bliss echoes there, making you feel the intense need to rub your thighs together. 

The feel of the cool air on your nipple when he pulls his mouth away is jarring but pleasant; a contrast that leaves you shivering with delight. This is intensified as, with an impish half-smile, he blows on it. You mewl in protest, shuddering with bliss as a fresh explosion of goosebumps follows. He continues his sweet teasing, ensuring that by the time he is done your nipples are likely hard enough to scratch durasteel. And then, all at once, your dress is ripped from you with one sure motion of his hand. An obligatory shriek spills from you, and he chuckles darkly at the blush rapidly spreading across your features. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not planning on ravishing you further. In fact, that was just a bit of teasing to make sure you’re still wanting for when you wake. It’s about time you returned to sleep; I have matters awaiting my attention, as well.” He turns his back to you briefly as he crosses to yet another door. This one seamlessly blends into the wall; you’d have never known it was there had you not seem him undo the bio-lock. The door slides open, and a cavernous closet opens up. He returns after a few moments with a silk slip in the darkest of red, with a matching robe and slippers. 

You stare blankly at the offerings, before flicking your gaze to him. 

“Thank you.” You move to take the night dress, but he holds it out of reach and tsks you. 

“Arms up.” 

“I can dress myself.” 

“I know, but I undressed you, so it’s only fair. Besides, I like taking care of you.” 

“Will you be spoon feeding me next?” Your question lacks the amount of bite you want because your eyes are already getting heavy. 

His lips curl in a self-satisfied tilt. “Maybe tomorrow. Arms up - I won’t ask again.” 

With a sound akin to the grumble of a churlish child, you obediently lift your arms so he can slip the sinfully well-made silk negligee over your body. He purposefully lets the material glide over your sensitized skin, using his hands to stroke the material in place and make sure it molds to every inch of you. 

His eyes never leave your face. 

Apparently, the Emperor of all the known Galaxy was a massive tease who was obsessed with watching your reactions as he did his utter best to make you melt. What would the Senate say about _that?_ The errant thought makes you giggle slightly and he smiles a tiny bit in turn. 

“What’s so funny, hm?” 

“Nothing,” you skirt the issue, not wanting to spark yet another debate about the absurdness of the situation you are in. He makes a sound of acceptance and slides into the bed next to you after removing his heavy leather boots. “I can stay for awhile, until you fall asleep." 

“Do _you_ ever sleep?” The question rings with genuine curiosity, and more concern than you thought you could muster. He shows few signs of fatigue, but you realize then that it must have been longer than a day that he’s gotten any adequate amount of rest. 

“Not lately,” he says, with a casual shrug of one massive shoulder, as if this is totally normal and to be expected. You have to work quickly to camouflage the note of worry that hits you - so you throw one of the plush pillows at him. It bounced directly off his face, and the look he gives you when it falls is one of beleaguered patience and restrained amusement. 

“Very mature.” 

“Even you need to sleep, you know, oh Great Emperor.” 

“I will sleep when all threats to you, and my rule, have been neutralized, oh Great Empress.” 

He pulls you to him then, and instinct has you nestling into the hollow of his neck. The familiarity is still lingering like a ghost, some revenant of old you thought long dead - would it be enough to bridge the interminable distance between the people you had grown to become? 

It isn’t long before exhaustion catches you and drags you into a complacent half-sleep despite the questions still circling your mind like opportunistic birds of prey. He all but tucks you in, content to remain exactly were he is. You hear his soft murmurs into your neck, feel his hands stroking your sides, shoulders, and back. His machinations only encourage sleep. 

“Rest now, lamb. I will endeavor to be here when you wake.” 

You murmur something akin to some denial that you are tired and he shushes you, kissing your eyelids closed again. You bristle slightly, with what energy you have left, before you finally give into the fatigue that will no longer be denied. 

The climate of Valeria is temperate, so there are no frigid winds to batter you as you slip into a dream. The flames in the cavernous fireplace do their part to keep any remnant of chill away. You can feel the silk sheets beneath you, the heat of him beside you. His breathing is deep and even - you sense he is content, but still very much awake. His heartbeat lulls you even further into an odd twilight state. 

When you crash back into consciousness sometime in the deep night, he is gone and the fire burns low. 

You sense the dark, cloaked figure before you see it. 

The hearth serves as a harrowing backdrop for the apparition before you. It is clear it is an apparition of sort because this being lacks proper form. The crackling flames are visible through its unnaturally tall and gaunt body. The cloak obscuring its features is disturbed by a phantom wind. It’s approach is soundless, sudden, and predatory. Long fingers stretch towards you - the nails are yellow and brittle with age; more _claws_ than nails. Terror surges through you but you are frozen, unable to do more than stare blankly at this creature as it looms over you. 

The face is not visible beneath the shadows of the hood, and you are grateful for it. The blue of its’ eyes radiate with power and madness - you make the mistake of meeting its gaze. **You.** The word radiates in your mind with enough power that it feels like your skull will burst. **You are the one he threw away everything for. You will suffer the most, I think.**

You desperately try to flail, try to call out for Ben. If anyone would sense you were in trouble, surely it would be him? _We’re connected. If you think loud enough, or feel loud enough, I will hear you. If you’re ever in trouble, I think I could hear you no matter where I am._ He'd said that once, with a blush so deep it went straight to the roots of his hair. It had given you such hope, had made warmth bloom in your belly. You suspected you'd fallen in love with him that day - the best day at the meadow. 

Well, you’d been in trouble plenty of times on Korian and he’d never come running. Now is not the time to be bitter about broken promises, though, because you are a wee bit busy dealing with some grisly apparition. 

Your limbs are useless dead things at your sides. The cloaked creature seems to sense your train of thought and tsks you, wagging one skeletal finger back and forth. 

**He cannot save you. He cannot even save himself.**

The grip around your throat is almost gentle. But the coldness of the touch gives it away even before the pressure increases. Each little gasp of precious oxygen feels like an arctic blast as it is ripped from your lungs. None comes to replace them- you can feel your throat closing up. With just a tiny bit more effort you are eerily positive your windpipe will simply break in two. 

Any doubts this is a dream flee around the time you quite clearly feel a vessel burst in your right eye. 

A halo of blue light takes stabs into your line of vision. A woman's scream of fury - the flames in the fireplace go from barely embers to a full inferno. Fire scorches the hearth, leaving the already black stone charred in places. Smoke drifts through the room and then - it's gone. Everything, all at once. The cloaked attacker, the light, the smoke - _gone._ The fire is once again burning low as if nothing happened, leaving you panting in a cold sweat. You lie there on your back for what feels like hours, but what must have been only long minutes, before you make your way to the 'fresher in a daze. You don't even stop to ogle the opulence of the room - the grand two part sinks, the impossibly large shower, _or_ the heated wash tub built into the very floor. You simply stare in the mirror at your pale, drawn reflection in slow horror as dark bruises bloom in the shape of sharp finger prints on your skin.


	11. UPDATE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Update for you lovelies!

Hello, hello!

I am officially back in action after much of a longer hiatus than expected. Apologies, sweet dears! You can expect an action packed, super length new chapter coming at you by the end of this week!

Hope this finds you all well! <3

xoxoxo


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